


Fifty Shades Forgotten

by md_petrova



Category: 50 Shades of Grey - E. L. James, Fifty Shades (Movies) RPF, Fifty Shades of Grey (2015), Fifty Shades of Grey - All Media Types, Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Erotica, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-29
Packaged: 2019-11-23 09:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 42,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18150005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/md_petrova/pseuds/md_petrova
Summary: Christian Grey is the master of his own universe. He can have whatever he wants, whenever he wants, however he wants. And yet, the one person he pursues is someone he cannot have. An aspiring surgeon with an eidetic memory and a complex past of her own crosses paths with him, but little do they both know how life would progressively change. Forget what you knew about the story; a rewritten concept of E.L. James's Fifty Shades Trilogy with the world of Grey's Anatomy crashing in.





	1. Punctuality

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story ever. 
> 
> I'm not one to usually write stories, so my writing skills are quite amateurish, forgive me! But thank you for even considering to give my story a read. This is mostly a Fifty Shades Trilogy rework. I am fascinated with Christian Grey, however, don't you just wish you could be the person in the conversations or in the moment controlling what to say for once? Well, this is my version of it. So, let's forget about the old Anastasia. Here is my newer version of Anastasia Steele, the aspiring savant of surgical medicine.
> 
> DISCLAIMER:The story is still the same, in a way; but the main character is different. Different dialogue, thoughts, background, story, and interactions. They just have similar "intimate" situations. I do not own any characters in Grey's Anatomy nor FIfty Shades. The story is a rework and almost a rewrite of how I want it to be for my character in the Fifty Shades realm.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is days after her encounter with Christian Grey, after a weekend with him.
> 
> Throughout the story there will be a moment where you will need a reference to the contract. I do not own the contract, but please use it to follow along! https://www.quotev.com/story/7282167/Christian-Greys-Contract-The-Apendix/1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a bitch to edit.

The medical resident found herself running into the locker room out of breath and panicking as she found herself late to work; overslept, exhausted, and sore-bodied from the mysteriously dashing and successful bachelor Christian Grey. Already dressed in her light blue scrubs, she tossed her hair into a pony and sleeked it back as she picked up her equipment and name badge before hurrying out the residents’ lounge.

 

“Someone is clearly guilty and late,” chimed a voice as Anastasia sped through the hall. Her hair whipped at the sound of the joking voice—Frankie. The head nurse winked at her and turned the other direction.

 

Spotting the shortest surgeon in the hospital, Dr. Steele slowly sneaked up behind her boss but jumped at the sound of her booming voice, “ _LATE_ , Steele—”

 

“I know, Chief, I was—” Anastasia interrupted her Chief-of-Surgery, Dr. Bailey but was then abruptly interrupted right back.

 

“Do you _think_ I _care_ about the predicaments you put yourself in?” Dr. Bailey sighed, before turning around and narrowing her eyes at the young doctor. She continued beckoning Anastasia with two fingers, “You are a fine surgeon, Dr. Anastasia, but I can’t _help_ you if you’re gonna be late all the time. What’s wrong with _you_?” She made a face, opening her mouth as she scolded her.

 

Frustrated by her own carelessness, but mostly because she was in trouble, she chewed her lip and looked down, “I know. I’m sorry, chief.”

 

The chief-of-surgery sighed, shaking her head, and they began walking together to do rounds on her first patient of the day. Before they headed in the room of the head doctor’s first patient, she froze abruptly and turned around again, “I got a lot of things on my agenda today, Steele. You are our youngest senior resident, probably the youngest doctor in this whole damn hospital.” Her head shook and her lip lifted in annoyance, “It doesn’t mean you get treated with any specialty. If I can be here on time, you can, too. I did _not_ hire you to be insufficient and late, regardless of how shiny your resumé claimed to be.”

 

Anastasia shook her head, and the moment she does the phone in her pocket begins vibrating. _Mr. Grey, not now_ , she thought. “I apologize, Dr. Bailey. Of course, it won’t happen again.”

 

“ _Mmhmm._ Since you are starting out this week, I’ll let it go just for today. It is a big hospital, so I suppose I could let you go, but that’s it, _”_ the chief simply mumbled back with disapproval.

 

It was a big hospital though, anyone could get lost. The two doctors exchanged glances at each other and stood in silence. For someone so small, Dr. Bailey held a great amount of power and intimidation in such stature. “What the hell’re you looking at me for? Let’s go! Who do we got?”

 

The young doctor jumped, shaking herself back into the present, immediately found speaking from her vast memory, “Elena Burtram, 37, scheduled for a laparoscopic cholecystectomy…”

 

And thus began Dr. Steele’s day, which ended up being a light one, despite it not being easy in the beginning. Being assigned work from the chief-of-surgery had its perks and benefits. Although there was a lot of administrative and checking pre- and post-op work, Anastasia managed to have finished all that work before the clock struck nine—anything before nine pm was early at this point. The work load was light; lap chole and appendectomy with Bailey, checking on other patients, and running scans for the chief made the day fly by quickly and in such a breeze. Sort of. Working with her is a double-edged sword.

 

Finally reaching the resident’s lounge, Anastasia noticed the forgotten vibrating weight in her pants. She first looked at the time when her phone turned on as she raised it to her face. 7:45 p.m. Just fifteen minutes before she is supposed to be off. Upon raising her phone, she received five missed calls throughout the day, one voicemail, and three emails. After checking those notifications, she found that they had all been from the domineering Christian Grey.

 

_Fantastic._

 

Anastasia rolled her eyes before rubbing her temples with one hand. She let her dark locks down from her ponytail before raising the phone to her ear and listening to what he had to say, “Miss Steele,” his voice began, cool but veiled from irritation, “for a young woman of our technologically advanced generation, one would think that she would _respond back to any of my messages_. What really is the use of having technology when you don’t use it? Please, call me when you get the chance.”

 

As stubborn as Christian is, Anastasia doesn’t give him the luxury of returning his call just yet; after all, he is the reason she is late, so she checked and began reading her emails to wait one at a time. The tardiness was not her fault, or at least she was too stubborn enough to take accountability; she thought why not string out not being in his company a bit longer. Opening her email she read the first one from the CEO.

 

 **From:** Christian Grey

 **Subject:** A Night of Firsts

 **Date:** May 07, 2018 08:16

 **To:** Anastasia Steele

 

Dear Miss Steele

I hope your night was a memorable first you’d hold forever; I know it was for me.

Slept well? How is your morning going? It’s only been a couple hours since I have seen you, and I already crave you.

 

 

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

 

 _How sweet. So punctual and kind for someone that calls himself dominant,_ she thought to herself. She chewed the inside of her lip and shivered at the thought of the word—dominant. Do-min-ant. She shook the thought and started to feel bad for her unresponsiveness.

**From:** Christian Grey

 **Subject:** Where are you?

 **Date:** May 07, 2018 12:02

 **To:** Anastasia Steele

 

The last time I checked, after concluding our eventfully wonderful weekend of letting me make love to you and thoroughly ravaging your beautiful body, I do remember you bidding me farewell but _also_ telling me you would email me in the morning. You must be confused with time because it is now the afternoon, doctor.

 

Respond back when you can.

 

P.S. Have you thought about our agreement?

 

Christian Grey

CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

 

It was a little bizarre to have a man like Christian to message Anastasia. Someone so profoundly and immensely important, someone so successful like him would still have time for the young doctor. Surely, he must understand the stresses and workload of a learning surgeon. Maybe bizarre isn’t the right word; how about slightly shocking? Or impressive? _Obsessive_ , Anastasia thought declaratively, lips curling into a small smile from her little unspoken joke.

 

She didn’t want to even think about the paperwork of this relationship, if one could even call it that.

 

 _One more to go,_ she thought. She opened her last email.

 

 **From** : Christian Grey

 **Subject** : Irritated and Concerned

 **Date** : May 07, 2018 13:57

 **To** : Anastasia Steele

 

You told me you would message me when you got to work safely, let alone messaging me later. If you don’t answer me soon, you will see me at 5:00 p.m.

 

 

Christian Grey

Annoyed CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings Inc.

 

 _Fuck, no,_ Anastasia gasped in thought. Her heart fell to her stomach and shattered into shards of broken glass on the floor. _He must’ve left if he had been waiting so long. It’s been almost three hours,_ she thought nervously to herself, but shook her head with optimism. There’s no need for the fears of intimidating confrontation; he should’ve left already. At least, that’s what the already tired doctor hoped.

 

Taking her time and pushing the billionaire to the back of her head, she promised herself she would call him after she got home. Anastasia replaced her scrubs attire with her street clothes of tight black jeans, and a grey-knitted, off-shoulder long sleeve. She dropped the dirty blue scrubs into the waste basket and left the lounge.

 

The elevator doors dinged open, and the small brunette doctor hurried out. Listening to her little black-heeled boots echo against the floors of the hospital, Anastasia suddenly was stopped by a tap on the shoulder as she turned to the waiting area of the surgical wing.

 

Slowing down the pace of her walking, she turned around and the person was revealed to be a tall and light-skinned handsome man with blue-ish-green-eyes. His mesmerizing eyes were hard to forget, “Dr. Avery,” Anastasia exclaimed, “hello. How are you, and what can I do for you?” She ran her fingers through her hair like a comb and smiled gently.

 

Stunned by his appearance, she shook her head in disbelief at the sight of his attractiveness. One doesn’t have to be attracted to another by noticing his or her physical attractiveness, to be fair. His broad shoulders and fit physique can be seen even on top of his clothing. His neatly groomed stubble faded perfectly into his hairline. He grinned showing off his pearly-whites, contrasting against his pink lips, “I thought you’d be the newbie. Are you heading out, Dr. Steele? I was just wondering if I could walk with you.”

 

Anastasia blinked at him and then grinned back gently, sounding pleased, “That would be nice.” As they began walking out together, she asked, “I’m just curious, Dr. Avery, how—how do you know _me_ exactly? It’s only been my first week here, and I feel as though the only person that would—well, would be the chief.” Anastasia chuckled slightly at her comment.

 

With his hands in his pockets, he casually replied, “As a board chairman of this hospital, I think it would be in my best interests to know who I’d be working with or who is hired in my hospital,” he continued grinning, “however, I was just curious to know how you know who I am.”

 

 _His family owns the hospital, stupid girl_ , scolding herself quietly. She shook her head as the thought slipped her mind, “Of course, I’m sorry I had almost forgotten…”

 

Just as the young resident was about to answer his question with a slight blush, she was stopped by the receptionist, Vivian. “Dr. Steele?” She squinted her eyes at her, examining Anastasia while holding the phone to her shoulder as she was putting someone on hold.

 

Abruptly stopping, “Yes?” the young brunette turned with a confused smile, “that is me.”

 

“A man,” she paused before repeating and whispering with a blushing giggle, “A very _good-looking_ man by the name Christian Grey was requesting you downstairs at the entrance of the hospital. He kept coming up and insisted on seeing you.”

 

“Thank you. I am headed there right now,” She responded with a continuing nervous smile. _Shit_.

 

“I told him you were busy in surgery, but I don’t know if he is still here. He came to my desk many times throughout the hours and left telling me to tell you he’d be downstairs at the entrance,” Vivian smiled back before returning to her call.

 

“Friend of yours?” Dr. Avery slightly furrowed his brows as he curiously inquired the accompanying resident with a smile.

 

“I guess you can say that…” She muttered quietly. The two doctors continued walking out together, heading down the stairs of the hospital’s entrance. Mr. Grey continued to be nowhere in sight as Anastasia’s eyes scanned the floors quickly. Wanting to change the subject her eyes brightened, recalling back to his smart-mouthed inquiry, “To answer your question, who wouldn’t know you, Dr. Avery? You are a renowned plastic surgeon in the west coast.” She looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled warmly back from her simple flattery.

 

Anastasia continued, looking straight ahead at the glass wall and doors of the hospital’s entrance, guarded by two security officers by its doors, “Head of the Plastic Surgery department and ENT at Katherine Fox Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital. Your family owns this hospital, so essential _you_ own this hospital and—” The young resident stopped in her tracks, gasping as the realization hit her, “ _Again,_ who wouldn’t know you! You’re an _Avery_!”

 

“ _Damn_ , I got a fan club,” He laughed, “I do get sick and tired of getting recognition because of the name, especially with what happened with my grandfather and all…but it is nice finally hearing positivity coming from someone like you.” his voice drifted with a weak smile.

 

She blinked a bit confused before being suddenly reminded of current events, “Dr. Avery, I’m sorry about your grandfather’s passing, I hope I didn’t—”

 

“ _Please_ , really, there’s no need to apologize. He was _quite_ the man. Or maybe he wasn’t…” the tone in his voice droned melancholically.

 

She inhaled deeply and quietly, “I saw on the news what had happened before I landed in Seattle.” Harper Avery, another renowned surgeon and surgical innovator of the Harper Avery Foundation—in which really makes the Averys medicine royalty (not quite humble though)—was accused of sexual assault by thirteen women after he died. Money kept all those poor women quiet to not hurt the deceased Avery’s reputation. Long gone, his family had to suffer the horrible PR nightmares and legalities of Harper Avery’s actions—hurting their reputation as whole.

 

“It really sucks having the name with everything that has happened, but I guess it’s the legacy I’m dealt with. I’m just glad it is over and taken care of now,” he sighed. “Jackson. It’s Jackson, by the way, if my fan club does not know.” He joked and smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

 

The brunette rolled her eyes and chuckled gently as she responded back, “Anastasia.”

 

Silence began filling the void of their conversation, but something lit in Dr. Steele; again, she smiled to herself.

 

Noticing, Jackson turned his head to Anastasia with a questioned smile, “What?”

 

She shrugged, “I don’t think you have much to worry about when it comes to your surname’s legacy, that’s all.”

 

“ _Oh really?_ ” He smiled more widely with curiosity, “And why is that?”

 

As if she really had to explain herself, Anastasia shook her head with a scoffing smile, “You’re kidding.” He continued putting on his questioned look causing her to shake her head again as she went on, “You have Avery blood in you, that may or may not mean something, but you are not just a gold and shiny name. That name means something for a reason, not just money, and _that_ is why people have fan clubs and gush over your name.

 

Your family is a bunch of surgical innovators. Smart, talented, and skilled, exemplifying the Avery name,” the young resident said, stopping in her word thoughts again and correcting herself, “Maybe it isn’t in your blood or the name. It’s you, too. Maybe you are the one who is smart, talented, and skilled. Innovative, too. I mean, I remember reading somewhere about spray-on skin? That’s incredible!”

 

Flattering went on without realizing she was gushing about Jackson Avery, “I also read that article you published about…” she paused and her eyes lightened with a snapped finger in the air, “Caroline Hodges! Laryngeal cancer, the one with the tumor in her throat!”

 

Alarmed by the excited volume, he widened his eyes at her excitement and grinned, but he let her continue, “The little girl that was going to lose her voice, but you gave it back to her using a…an organic larynx constructed from the intestine and the appendix.” She opened her mouth, still in shock from remembering what she read before turning and smiling at him, “See, Jackson? You really have nothing to worry about. It’s in you. Whether or not the surgical innovation or genius is in you, you managed to have not only done something to save a little girl’s life but changed it for the better.”

 

She smiled and looked ahead, thinking about Caroline, “You made her life better. And really, that’s what this is all about, being who we are. We get to not only change lives but better them, too.” She nodded, listening to her heart-warming gut, “You made the impossible possible. _That_ is why you have a fan club. You influence and teach other fellow surgeons around, including myself, to train and to be like you. So, don’t think about it or worry too much, okay? I mean, I don’t have a lot of experience like yourself nor do I have the right to probably be saying anything to make this situation any valid, but your works speak for themselves. And it’s from Jackson Avery, not just any Avery.”

 

She exhaled gently before turning to his face again. His eyes are glimmering with overwhelming flattery and warmth, and his face is shocked and happy. The two exchanged smiles, but his smile only warmed even more as seconds passed, “ _Wow,_ I was not expecting that. Thank you.” He was left speechless, avoiding the option of teasing her and shaking his head with a smile, “You’re just a good boost of ego and a ray of sunshine, aren’t you. You remind me of someone.”

 

Brushing off the gratitude and compliment with a wave of her hand, “Thank _yourself_. You did it,” she said with her smart comment.

 

“Hey, are you free right now?” Jackson asked happily and hopefully, a hand on her shoulder to stop her, but the resident’s voice was lost as she gazed at a familiar person. _Him._

Christian Grey was ahead, eyes blazed with gray. She could see him huff and exhale harshly from afar as he approached her, like a wolf to his lamb. His grey eyes burned right into her light hazel eyes. One fist was clenched while the other hand running through his already messed-up hair.

 

Her eyes opened and flared into slight fear, looking away to break his gaze, _Is he going to kill me? What the…_

“Ana!” Jackson shook her shoulder, jolting her from her fearful trance.

 

She turned her head and looked at him confused. He repeated himself again, “I asked if you wanted to get a drink. There’s this place—Joe’s is nearby.”

 

Finally reaching his lamb, the wolf stood closely beside his prey and answered for her, “Actually, I’m taking her home right now.” His hand gently crept from behind, snaking his way around her waist and gently beckoning her to move his way with a pull, while Anastasia could feel some heat emanating from his palm. “I have been waiting for quite some time after all.”

 

“Uhh… _okay?…_ ” He lifted his brow, opening his mouth to say something else but just turned and simply pointed at the wolf, as he turned to the young lamb.

 

Weary from an eventful day of work, she simply responded, “Jackson, this is Christian Grey; he’s the CEO of Grey Enterprises,” Anastasia then turned to Christian, who is not taking eye-contact off Jackson with his icy stare, “Mr. Grey, Dr. Jackson Avery; his family owns the hospital and the Harper Avery Foundation.”

 

Stepping back just a bit, Anastasia found herself witnessing an intense staring contest. Around the same height of six feet, she stared at two men rivaling a staring gaze, not seeming to care about anything she had just said nor each other’s occupations.

 

Within seconds Jackson broke his gaze and turned back to Anastasia, trying to find light in his eyes with a smile, “So, that drink?”

 

“I believe I said that I am taking her home, Dr. Avery,” His icy grey stare blazed more with his nose slightly flaring, interrupting and speaking for the young resident before she could speak.

 

“Oh, I heard you—Mr. Grey was it?” He slowly turned his head back, and irritation was beginning to radiate from his eyes, “but I wasn’t asking you. I was asking Dr. Steele, and now unless somehow she is asking you to communicate for her through you, I want an answer from her. Is he bothering you?”

 

His eyes rolled and his head slowly turned away from Christian and back at Anastasia, flexing his jaw. He’s annoyed for sure, now. Christian began to take a step forward, only causing Jackson to shake his head and show no fear against the cold wolf by stepping forwards himself.

 

Immediately, Anastasia found herself intervening with an exclamation, “Dr. Avery!” And with that, the staring contest and the testosterone battle slowly began dissolving. Jackson looked down at her and attempted to smile through his irritation. She continued, “I’d love to have a drink with you, but Mr. Grey has been waiting for me for some time now—”

 

“Three hours, _now_ ,” he corrected sternly.

 

 _Christian, can you…_ she thought before rolling her eyes in her head. _I’m sorry_ , but the whispered words in her thoughts did not part from her lips.

“Right, well, I’d love to reschedule and have a rain check on that drink though, please.” She smiled graciously, her façade hiding her nervousness well.

 

Jackson rubbed his lips together and smiled, “Alright. Well, it was a pleasure finally meeting you today, Anastasia. I will raincheck to that drink,” He held out his hand to her.

 

She looked down quickly at his beautifully tan hands before looking up at him and taking it into her own. He was warm, and he patted his other hand on top of hers, warming her little cold hand from both sides. Anastasia answered back, “The pleasure is all mine,” she nodded and smiled appreciatively at Jackson.

 

The plastic surgeon smiled even more warmly. He definitely is one beautiful man; this should be a crime.

 

After responding back to Dr. Avery, Christian somehow managed to have Anastasia hook her arm around his arm, dragging and whisking her away. He was sick from this sight. She hurried quickly out the door with him, trying to wave good-bye.

 

She began panting slightly from the quickened pace, trying to keep up with him; the shoes were slightly uncomfortable to hurry in, despite how good they accentuated her legs. Finally being out of sight, she quickly snatched her arm back and away from him, trying to take a bit of air back in.

 

He whipped around, anger in his eyes, but she recoiled back with an answer, “I can’t walk quickly in these shoes; we’re almost jogging, Christian, and I’m out of breath. Why are we in such a hurry?”

 

Christian snatched Anastasia’s wrist and continued pulling her, “Oh, I can find a way to take your breath away…”

 

“You’re angry at me?” She questioned with a pant, trying to get an answer.

 

“I’m angry at you.” He repeated back, coldly, “You had to ask?”

 

“Why?” The brunette asked almost naïvely, but the angry man did not respond. _I am a busy woman in the last year of her residency._ She pulled her hand back and clutched it into her other hand’s grasp, stopping against the wall of the emergency drop-off of the hospital.

 

He paused in his tracks and turned around with eyes continued to blaze with fury, “Why? If you were mine, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I wouldn’t be feeling this way or having to drag you out like this. If you were mine, you wouldn’t be _defying_ me with every chance we had together. _If_ you were mine—”

 

“But I’m _not_!” Anastasia interrupted his statement with her own answer, continuing, “I’m. Not. _Yours.”_ She stood her ground, nose flared as she looked up at him. “I’m not a dog. I won’t chase and come to your will whenever you want. I have a life, and you have yours. So, be the adult that you are and talk to me instead of going maniacally angry on my coworkers and me, you _man-child_.”

 

Anastasia’s angry words were like the ice that matched his gaze, and they were both standing there in silence as they exchange heat and icy stares at each other.

 

Whatever the young doctor did released a small emotion of angry lust that unveiled from his eyes.

 

Christian lunged forward and ambushed her lips with a hungry kiss, relishing the taste from her mouth. Winded from the force of his attack, Anastasia gasped before breathing into him as their lips fit perfectly like a lock and key. He pushed her against the stone wall, a hand gripped into a fist full with her dark locks clenched inside while his other hand grabbed at her waist; her side fitting perfectly into his palm. Their kisses turned quickly from hated passion into the aggressive hungry form awaited all day, awaken from the anger of their events. His tongue invaded her mouth, penetrating through her lips before rubbing and lashing against hers. She pushed against his tongue, one hand at one side of his face, while the other hand was on the opposite side gently placed at his neck.

 

Finally getting control, her tongue was able to push through as both their tongues were fighting for dominance, circling around and around. The doctor’s trespassing hand slid down his neck and almost slid to his chest, but before that could happen, the hand at the her waist was then swiftly snatched away and pressed against the glass of the shuttered window. His body was then pressed against hers, releasing their kiss for a moment for air. Their breathing was almost in unison, panting for air from a deeply lustful kiss, noses rubbing against each other as Anastasia’s trembling lips rubbed against Christian’s. She breathed in his scent, smelling of clean clothes, body wash, and _him_.

 

“So sweet…” He whispered, “You’re so sweet…in every way…”

 

The doctor felt winded as if hit with a forceful wave of emotion and lust. With closed eyes, she slid her hand away from his face, and she placed it on top of her left breast, feeling the acceleration of her heart beat more quickly. Anastasia’s eyes fluttered opened, staring into his entrancing gray eyes. He continued rubbing his nose against hers gently, calming them both down as he cupped her face gently with his hands. The emotional energy of their lust overwhelmed the brunette, causing her to lay her head back against the glass, feeling his warm breath against her small chin.

 

“If you were _mine_ ,” he responded with a breathy repeated statement, “we could do this. We could do so much together. Feel and be anything we want. But this stunt you pulled today… It was unfair and cruel. I was worried about you. And then, I saw you with another _man_.” He sighed against her wet lips.

 

“Have you thought about us? I want you, Anastasia. All to myself. Mine.” His eyes were dark and hungry for her, and she opened her eyes watching him in a mesmerizing daze. The attraction and pull she felt from him replaced her anger, which at this point seemed forgotten and nonexistent. The lightness of her hazel eyes stared into his dark gray eyes, overwhelmed and weak with so much feelings and emotions.

 

“I can take you right here if you wanted, baby…” Christian said, leaning in again; hands reaching around, one gently placed on her neck while the other wrapped around her waist again. His breath shakily and hotly tickled her neck, traveling back to her lips after grazing her chin, “I want _you_ …give yourself to me, Anastasia.”

 

He pushed a knee gently up between her thighs, gently rubbing against her crotch as he propped her up a bit higher against the wall. She gasped from his sudden movement and impulsive aggressiveness, causing him to smirk with intense desire, plunging back down to steal what he wanted in front of him.

 

“Wait,” she trembled, holding onto his arms and causing him to freeze in his path. He looked into her eyes, still breathing intensely back and forth against each other, breathing each other’s air. The anticipation was agonizing for both of them, but her monosyllabic word snapped themselves out of their lustful trance. He stepped back, watching her.

 

Like a weight off her body, she placed her fingers on her décolletage, tracing her collarbone before pressing her palm against her chest. He stared back hungrily and lustfully, as if she were teasing him with her body. The fact is, she needed a moment to regain consciousness. She felt as though her body and mind was sent somewhere else. The wind in the air began to blow and pick up, serendipitously cooling their heated bodies and emotions. She gently rubbed her neck and closed her eyes to feel the cool breeze, leaning against the wall with her foot propped back against it. Her hair flew against the current of the breeze.

 

She was an immaculate beauty in his eyes. Her shiny, supple, and radiantly snow skin glowed against the fluorescent lighting, exposed from the slouchy long-sleeve she was wearing. The curves of her body were exaggerated from the tightness of her jeans, watching the lines of the curves almost able to grab into his hands. Her legs were extended and long, teasing Christian to wrap around him and hold.

 

Their breathing slowed, but she could still feel his overwhelming hunger for her through his darkly gray eyes. The brunette chewed at the inside of her lip as she stared at him. “Don’t,” he simply responded, stepping in closer. She let go of her lip gently, putting her hand up which caused him to stop in his place. She breathed hotly and watched the vapored condensation of her breath slowly creep out from her quietly panting lips.

 

Anastasia pulled herself away from the wall, pulling her long sleeve back up and adjusting it correctly.

 

“Was I not enough?”

 

The doctor watched the CEO carefully, trying to understand his question. His gray eyes turned from blazed, to hungry, to anxious. She questioned his statement with a confused face, and he repeated himself with more clarification, “Was yesterday night—was it not good enough?”

 

 _How so little communication and conversation can make a man like him crumble in his own thoughts,_ she thought to herself. His slightly pained and embarrassed expression immediately placed concern. He went on, “You haven’t messaged me, you haven’t responded—hell, you haven’t even said anything to me and then I see you with that _man…_ It seems as though you are avoiding me.”

 

“No, Christian, no,” Anastasia whispered gently, moving forward and pressing her forehead against his. She gently pecked her lips upon his, rubbing the back of his head gently.

 

He exhaled sharply through his nose, as if his burdened thoughts were lifted off his body from her reassurance. Her eyes innocently looked back into his dark eyes, “You were perfect.” She shook her head and smiled with a slightly flushed face. Unsure if slightly pink face was from the cold weather, or from her own emotions, she went on, “You are perfect, Christian. You…yesterday… This weekend was amazing, Christian, don’t worry.”

 

Anastasia cleared her throat, running her fingers through the locks of her dark hair, “However, you need to understand that I am not as experienced as you in…all that we did.” She looked away from her choice of words, smiling nervously as she recounted the memories of their intense weekend. She pleaded again, looking back at him, “You need to give me some time. I spent the entire weekend with you, as you tried persuading me with your curious offer. I haven’t had time to think. And I haven’t even had time to adjust because of work, either.”

 

Raising her hand up to his cheek, she stroked his cheekbone with her thumb, smiling as her eyes slightly glimmered from the cold air of Seattle. Her lips shined pink to match with her slightly pink nose. Her eyes blinked into his gaze, and he inhaled quickly at the sight of her pure beauty, “I just want you to be _mine._ To please consider my offer and make the right decision as soon as you can so we can explore… _everything_ together. His voice shook as he emphasized “mine.” Matching her hand, his warm hand cradled the side of her cold cheek and face.

 

Christian quickly grabbed the doctor’s cold hands into his, “Jesus, you’re freezing, Ana …” She watched him breathe hotly onto them after pulling his jacket over her, draping it on her shoulders. “Let’s talk about this later and get you home.”

 

She slowly murmured, as he held one hand and had an arm embraced around her warmly, “I’m sorry. It’s just been a long day, Mr. Grey. I can’t say that you were much help towards the end.”

 

“Apologizing for being tired? That’s an absurd apology, and also not the apology I was counting on,” he shook his head. He smirked and kissed her head gently, “I might be to blame for your exhaustion, but I won’t take all the blame. We can talk tomorrow, you’ve went through a lot.”

 

For some reason, Anastasia was overwhelmed with so much that has happened today, so she found herself out of thought and a bit broken. Exhaustion was most to blame and also why she felt somehow numb and shutdown. Their extreme sessions of sexual activities are most likely to blame just as Christian brought up, but the doctor was too tired to care. Not as much physically as she was mentally, but at this point, she could not tell the difference. She walked slowly with him as he held her hand and pulled her into an alley toward a car. Finally reaching their destination, a blond crew-cut man, built in stature was awaiting (apparently) the two of them by a black and sleek Audi.

 

 _Oh god, what is this now? Who is this?_ She thought morbidly. She stood still and the resistance from her hand slightly pulled Christian back. He turned around to stare at her, questioning her silent action before following her gaze back to the random guy.

 

Christian stared at Anastasia reassuringly, rubbing her shoulders and arms gently, “Don’t worry, he’s safe. This is Taylor. He’ll drive us home.”

 

She shook her head, smiling tiredly, “No, it’s fine. No need to drive because my home is in walking distance. I live near the hospital.” She lifted her finger and pointed in a direction neither cared to look. Both men already knew the answer and outcome of this situation.

 

“Anastasia, it’s freezing out. I’m not going to let you walk in this cold no matter how close your home is in proximity,” he held her face in his hands. “Let me take you home, Ana, I don’t want you to get sick.” He kissed her temple and then her ear as he ushered her toward the car. At this point, she was too overwhelmed fight, instead taking his gentlemanly offer.

 

Taylor opened the car door, letting the two of them sit and settle in before shutting it close on them and heading to the driver seat. Turning on the ignition and the heater, he asked quietly, “Where to, Mr. Grey?”

 

After buckling and warming up Anastasia, he turned to the sleepy doctor and asked, “Anastasia, your home, what’s the address?”

 

“Up there,” she struggled to point at the nearest building, “50 Woodson Park. Apartment 202,” she spoke slowly before nestling herself against the corner of the car’s door.

 

He frowned; even when it was going to be a small car ride, he wanted her body by his side.

 

She rested her eyes for a few minutes, and was awaken from a small nudge.

 

“We’re home. Let’s get you inside,” Christian responded quickly, lifting her into his arms once Taylor opened the door for them. “I’ll be back, Taylor, wait for me.”

 

Carrying her into the apartment complex after two flights of stairs, he reached the door to Anastasia’s apartment, the first door on the right turn. “We’re here; I’m going to put you down now, Anastasia. Give me your keys so I can open the door.”

 

Anastasia nodded her head gently, reaching in and pulling out her keys immediately, handing him the key to her door. He took the keys and tried opening it once placing it into its lock, but it wouldn’t budge open. She smiled amused, watching him struggle and curse to himself.

 

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with this door?” His voice irritated and increasing anger by the seconds that passed.

 

She placed her hand onto his shoulder, pulling him back gently to show him. She reached for her keys and handed it back to Christian to hold, staring at her confused. She knew a quick trick that she could show him. Her hand reached toward the doorknob, she wiggled the knob around a few times before pulling and yanking it out of the door. He gazed in horror, watching Anastasia as she handed the knob to him. She stepped back, breathing in before kicking the door open with her foot.

 

Anastasia walked in before turning on the flickering lights, “Thank you for taking me home, Christian, I think I may go to bed early,” she dropped her items on the ground of her threshold and handed his coat back to him.

 

Mortified and shocked, he shook his head pulling her back out by her hand and yanking her out. He grabbed her items back out of the apartment, draped the coat back around her, and slammed the door shut, “You aren’t staying in that hellhole; are you insane? Is this where you’ve been staying?” His eyes were filled with blazing concern.

 

She smiled in admiration, “Not everyone can be fortunately and luxuriously wealthy like you, my mad king. Plus, I think this place has character.” She snickered jokingly, amused at his concern. Shrugging, she tried reassuring him, “As bad as it looks, it’s not so bad. The neighbors are really nice, and we’re already here.”

 

Christian shook his head, snatching her hand before she could push the door open again, “Your place has shitty character. We’ll do something about that later, but you are not staying here. Not until I can fix your door with appropriate locks or find you a better place. And you’re lucky that I am fortunately and luxuriously wealthy, as you would put it.”

 

Christian shook his head in disbelief and aggravation, pulling her back to his side before heading back out. “I liked that you called me that earlier, _your_ _majesty_ ,” he smirked down at her, and she smiled to herself, still lazy-eyed and filled with exhaustion.

 

Being placed back into the black Audi with her items, she began sitting herself up, “This gesture is really kind, but I don’t need to go to your place, Mr. Grey. I’ve been fine ever since I moved and—”

 

Ignoring her, he commanded to his driver, “Taylor, home.”

 

Frustrated, Anastasia made a face of annoyance as Christian glared down with eyes challenging back, “Don’t test me again, tonight, Anastasia. You’ve put me through enough.”

 

“Funny, I’m naturally good with tests,” she smartly mused to herself.

 

Amused by her side comment, his tone darkened, adjusting with his eyes, “Care to take a few tests now?”

 

“Mr. Grey!” The young doctor immediately whipped her face towards him in anger and horror, watching him stare down his prey, then back at the rear view mirror of the driver. Taylor seemed to not be paying attention, or at least he seemed very good at pretending not to.

 

“Yes, Miss Steele?” He leaned in closer, sneaking an arm around her with a hot whisper against his ear. Feeling the warmth of his bodied presence and his tantalizing aroma invading her senses, she squirmed in and adjusted against her seat as Christian moved in.

 

He pressed his lips onto her head, inhaling the sweet scent from her hair and body into his nose. Anastasia’s body tensed and shivered from his presence, trying to brush off the feeling, and trying to push off the feeling of desire and want from the wolf beside her.

 

Watching the view from outside the car window, passing sights one by one, Christian spoke again, “I’m still upset, Anastasia.”

 

“Man-child,” Anastasia muttered with an unimpressed and wary look, a hidden smile hiding underneath the mask of her irritation.

 

Feeling eyes blaze beside her, the CEO’s nose flared, reaching for the doctor’s chin and lifting forcefully toward his face with his two fingers, “Excuse me?”

 

“Oh, you’re excused,” the brunette wittily responded back. Her amused hazel eyes challenged his storming gray eyes. Continuing, she flung his grip away from her chin, turning back into the direction she was originally in, “What happened? Did you pass gas, Mr. Grey?”  


After her snarky comment, Christian widened his eyes in more anger and irritation while Taylor cleared his throat to suppress his own amused feelings. Christian immediately flashed his angry eyes toward his driver, but the man behind the wheel kept his still composure as if nothing happened.

 

Anastasia secretly smiled to herself and at her witty comment, _I think I like Taylor. At least he understands a good joke._

A heated whisper brushed her head, “I’d bend you across my knee right now, if you weren’t so tired.”

Ignoring his threatening comment, she stared up at the driver. “Taylor?” the doctor’s voice asked shyly with a hesitated smile, watching him in the rear view mirror again.

 

Alert from his own name, he looked in the mirror and made eye contact with her, “Miss Steele?”

 

“Anastasia, please.”

 

Taylor nodded once and cleared his throat with a slight pause, as he repeated her name back, “Anastasia. What can I do for you?”

 

Pleased with a smile, she asked gently, “When will we get back to Christian’s home? I’d like to know when this kidnapping would end and when we reach our destination. That’s all.”

 

“We’ve arrived, miss,” he answered, a small smile still crept underneath a hidden composure.

 

“Yes, we’re here,” Christian stated irritably, breaking the small conversation between the driver and the doctor.

 

Anastasia’s eyes brightened with small excitement. Wealth and luxury is not something she can witness every day, so she was hoping to explore the wealth of Christian Grey’s Escala Seattle condominium complex once again. She smiled with curiosity, opening the door for herself and snatching her items before anyone could grab them. She left the door open for the man who sat beside her throughout the car trip and toward the elevator that led to the billionaire’s extravagant home.

 

Quickly passing a stunned Taylor, he froze from her swiftness and caught up with Anastasia, “Miss Steele, please, let me grab your items for you.”

 

Looking down to finally hop over the last step of the staircase, she turned to Taylor with a smile, “You’re so kind, Taylor, but that’s okay, I got it.” She patted his arm gently and continued moving on with a smile.

 

Christian briskly walked behind her, still seething with irritation and anger from the events of this evening and the car ride. Taylor stared at Christian, confused with not knowing what to do. The CEO reached toward her shoulder, “Anastasia, please hand your items to Mr. Taylor.”

 

“No,” she countered back and repeated again, “I _said_ I have it.”

 

Taylor opened the door for the two awaiting the threshold of their entrance and held the door open. Anastasia nodded with a smile of gratitude before stepping inside, Christian following behind.

 

He snatched Anastasia’s items out of her grip and pushed them towards Taylor, “Leave us, Taylor.” His voice was commanding. He has definitely had it with this girl.

 

Anastasia turned around, nose twitching and flaring at him. She waited for the echoes of Taylor’s footsteps to dissipate before she snapped at him, “I’m here! You got what you wanted. How can there possibly be any problem now?”

 

“ _Enough!”_ Christian yelled, seething with anger. Boiling with his frustrating thoughts, he stepped forward with eyes blazing and glaring. To much of Anastasia’s surprise, she found herself flinching from the volume of his voice and turned away as fear slowly crept back into her system. He breathed heavily, burdened with his heavy emotions. He repeated what the small girl in front of him had said, “A problem? Is there a problem? Would you like me to list them out for you, Anastasia?” He ran his fingers through his unruly, now unkempt, hair and massaged the bridge of his nose as he snapped back at her.

 

The doctor stared at him, watching him pained and weary from his problems with her. She made a confused face, trying to understand the things that led Christian up to this point, forgetting everything that happened for a second because of his emotional and verbal outburst.

 

“I would bend you across my knee, _right now_ if I could…” he stepped forward in with a hungry and angry gaze. His stormy eyes gazed at her reaching to touch her face before closing it in my fist. He continued, “However… you can just be so _god damn_ stubborn and infuriating, Anastasia! You’ve been challenging me every chance you got.” He began pacing around to release any steam left in him, “We had a wonderful time together—I had a wonderful time with you, for that matter, something I haven’t had in a while. You told me you would message me your safety at the hospital, but I have not heard from you all day. Then, when I _do_ see that you are fine, you are walking out with _another_ man and escorting him to go get drinks! He wants what I want—something that should be _mine_.”

 

Understanding his intentions and feelings, sort of, Anastasia tried correcting him with reassurance, “Christian, Jackson was just—”

 

He made a face of disappointed disbelief as he interrupted with an angry snap, “Are you really this naïve, or do you have no social clue or idea of how people work? I mean, this is just ridiculous, Miss Steele?”

 

 _Ouch._ A light of shame, guilt, and hurt clouded her hazel eyes. Truthfully, Anastasia does not have any experience whatsoever in any social situation. It was no wonder her virginity was taken from the ravenous Christian Grey. She does not have any experience with people, regardless if it were casual, romantic, or intimate. Is she really that naïve, then? Is she that clueless? For once, is she that stupid, despite her depths and vastness of her knowledge?

 

Still not finished with his verbal frustrations, he continued roaring, “And I see this man is asking you out for drinks, probably just trying to consume and take in what I claimed to be mine! The only right thing you did was sending him off. What? So, you are confidentially flirting with other men now after our intimate rendezvous? Again, I have not heard from you all day, so I decide to wait for you, longer than I should be waiting. And I take you home, and you show me your dangerous hellhole of an apartment. To top everything all off, your attitude—which is not becoming of you by the way—sets me over my limits as I worry for your safety! Insulting and joking so cavalier in front of my employee. You call me the man-child, but here and behold, you are the one actually being the child. Do you have any idea—”

 

“I’m sorry,” the words in Anastasia’s mouth vomited out uncontrollably.

 

There was a pause. Time had frozen, and there was a lull. No sound. No movement. Stillness. _A jealous, worried, control freak afraid I’d run away. I need to stop being so cruel with the unnecessary… everything._

Nose still flared, but his blazing eyes now slowly starting to extinguish fire, he awaited for her to speak more. Uncomfortable with this confrontation, Anastasia spoke in guilt, “Seattle, so far, has been life-changing in more ways than I can think of.” She began with her first explained excuse, “Life-chaning in ways you couldn’t believe, and I was late for work. My boss was upset with me, and I was given so many things to do. I was upset with you, but also myself because I was the one that delved into my own selfish cravings. Cravings that I still…crave…”

 

Christian reached forward to touch her gently, but she stepped back and continued her explanation putting her hands up to stop him, “I’m sorry I made you wait. I should have called during my free time or during lunch—but to be fair, I have not eaten all day because of my preoccupied schedule. I had a plate of other things to tend to before I could find myself even a plate of food, and even then I forgot, and it was too late.” There was a brief minute of concern in his gray eyes again, but she looked away from his intimidating gaze, “It wasn’t until it was already late that I finally checked through your messages to me.”

 

Anastasia sighed, breathing in and out deeply. Calming her breath, she spoke what she felt, “I’m intimidated and scared of you a little. A lot. I don’t know what to do or how to feel.” He stared at her with worriment as he froze from her words, brows furrowing with his matching gaze. “Maybe I did avoid you, today,” she started, “but it wasn’t intentional. Subconsciously, maybe… You have to understand, I don’t understand how to work out or process what I am feeling. I just never learned how to do that, nor did I ever feel certain things I felt with you so intimately that night—that weekend. It’s easier to push them off. My day was off all day because of you. Everything that you confessed to me, and what you had proposed was a lot to think about, even when I didn’t have time to. I just need time to process…to process every—”

 

The once frustrated man, now consoled, pulled her into his chest, resting his chin on top of head. She widened her eyes in shock, staying there as her arms were locked and wrapped around his tight and warming embrace. Christian breathed her in again, kissing her head gently as one hand reached up to rub her hair gently. She murmured into his chest shortly before looking up and explaining again, “I am a bit overwhelmed lately; I don’t really know what to feel or what I am feeling, let alone know what to do, Mr. Grey, so, I’m sorry.”

 

Christian’s manly scent of musk and woodsy cologne, mixed with fresh laundry embraced her senses, filled her senses. It relaxed her body, and Anastasia found herself more relaxed and at ease—blissful. He whispered, “I hadn’t realized. If I had thought to consider or have known, I wouldn’t have been so—”

 

“Overbearing?” She interrupted quietly as she chewed her lip, repressing a giggle.

 

He shook his head, looking down and lifting her chin up, “I was going to say worried, Miss Steele. With your smart mouth, are you asking to get punished?” He smirked down. Jokes aside, he muttered quietly, “I don’t like to share.”

 

Speechless, Anastasia looked away embarrassed, but he lifted her chin again, this time face-to-face with their lips barely touching. Christian rubbed his thumb over the bottom of her wet lip, putting his wet thumb into his mouth to taste. “Sweet,” he whispered, toying with her bottom lip again. Pulling and dragging her lip down before forcing her mouth open with two fingers, slightly pinching her cheeks to form an “o” with her mouth, Christian leaned in closer kissing her deeply.

 

Her wet lips transferred her taste onto his. Christian took away the taste with the swipe of his tongue, “Mmm…” he moaned into her mouth as her steady breath became shaky. He snuck his hand behind the back of her hair, lacing his fingers through her dark locks before entangling them into his fingers. He clenched and gripped her hair before pulling down, exposing her neck and causing Anastasia to gasp.

 

“You’re so beautiful, Anastasia…” His vibrating words murmured against her bare neck. He licked and kissed at it gently before rubbing his nose against the trail of her neck. He breathed her in, her scent and her essence, the sweetness filling his nose. He began placing a trail of warm kisses up her neck and back to her lips, causing her to wrap her arms around him tightly, and eager for more. So much more.

 

Anastasia breathed the air that Christian breathed out, taking in his taste as he took her in. His hands were all over, traveling from the curves over her body, pulling him toward her closely and tightly before moving back to her face and neck. Rhythmically, their bodies rocked gently against each other as he pulled her body onto his. He wrapped an arm around her lower back, his palm taking grip of her sweater while his other hand was at her cheek, kissing more deeply into her. Their tongues finally met and wrapped around each other.

 

It was so overwhelming and intense that Anastasia began getting light headed, forgetting to breathe. She shivered from his touch, his hands, and his lips, daring to break the kiss for air and pressing her forehead against his. It was a good thing that she did; she felt her consciousness slipping again. He persisted, attacking her with deep and hot kisses on the corners of her mouth, chin, and neck, traveling back and forth.

 

Christian came back to her face, meeting eye-to-eye as he pressed his head against hers again. They were both panting together, and she rubbed her lips together after licking them gently, savoring any taste she could get from what the hungry wolf leftover. He held her closely, embracing her and the warmth that they exchanged to one another.

 

He finally spoke, breaking their intimate connection as he left her go and pulled her hand into the kitchen, “Come. You haven’t eaten all day.”

 

Following him, she responded back, “I-I’m not hungry anymore.”

 

 _Tonight has been messy. I’m such a hot mess…_ Her thoughts sighed and disapproved.

Christian pulled out the stool from under the island table, seating her there as he went to go quickly fetch some food and drinks, despite her comment. He opened the fridge and reheated food into the microwave. She listened to the humming noise coming from the appliance as she watched him in a daze—he was moving so quickly that she could pass out watching.

 

Anastasia leaned on her arm, sleepily yet hungrily watching him, repressing and keeping her desires held together. Christian came back to her, placing two glasses onto the table with a pitcher of cold water to accompany. He gently poured a glass for her and handed it to her, “I’d offer you a drink, but you didn’t even eat today.”

 

She answered by shaking her head and graciously taking the glass with two hands to quench her thirst, hoping to brush off the lightheadedness—or is it dehydration?

 

He sighed disapprovingly, shaking his head at her, “Your last meal?”

 

“Pasta,” she murmured, holding a fist to her lips as she yawned inside her mouth, eyes watering once she finished as she looked up at him.

 

“Pasta,” Christian repeated, irritable. “The pasta from twenty four hours ago? The pasta we ate before our activities?”

 

 _What is the big idea, Dad?_ She smiled to herself, humored by her joke. There was too much energy to be joking all the time, so she took another gulp of water, again.

 

His mouth twisted as he looked at with blazing eyes, “This isn’t amusing, Anastasia; you need to eat, and you need to take better care of yourself. It’s no wonder you are weak and limp, especially everything that has happened in these past twenty four hours.”

 

“This is my job and life, now; sometimes you don’t have time to when you get so busy with everything in your life. You get used to it,” Anastasia sighed, weary from this conversation.

 

Christian huffed with frustration, fetching the food in the microwave after it rang. He pulled the plastic cover off the plate and pushed it gently over to Anastasia, “That is not an excuse for a lack of self-care. Eat.” He contemplated his own thoughts of taking care of her.

 

It was the same pasta his maid cooked for their dinner from last night. Her stomach grumbled happily, but she was not in the mood, “I’m not hungry. I’m too tired to eat.”

 

“Eat,” his nose flared, and he placed both hands on the table watching, eyes motioning down at the plate as he handed her a fork.

 

She shook her head, causing Christian to slam his hand onto the table, “You eat, Mr. Grey.” The brunette handed the fork back to him and humored at his anger.

 

Christian pushed the fork back toward her, “I already ate. After waiting three hours for you, I had to. Your hospital food is repulsive and disgusting. _Eat._ ” He commanded again. “So help me, God, I will feed you myself if I have to.”

 

Anastasia twisted and twirled the fork between her fingers, rubbing it gently against her lips, as she played with it against her teeth. She looked down at her bowl, her stomach continued barking at her. Her eyes were toying with her stomach’s hunger, but she really was too exhausted to eat. Maybe feeding is what she needed.

 

He watched the fork toy against her lips, and desire filled his eyes again. His nose flared watching, waiting her to eat, so he could have a taste of her.

 

“I’m just not hungry,” she frowned, “for food anyway.” Embarrassed at the audacity that spoke from her lips, she looked immediately back down at her lips, twisting the spaghetti onto her fork and taking it into her mouth reluctantly.

 

Christian’s eyes widened; amused and luminous with desire, he smirked, moving closely toward her. He finally got to relax more as he watched her feed herself. He stood beside her, rubbing her hair as she chewed, “So eager and insatiable now. Who knows what’ll happen later, Miss Steele?” He leaned down and kissed her head again before stealing a quick kiss upon her lips.

 

She chewed, swallowed, and slowly ate some more. She shrugged, covering her mouth as she repeated him, “Who knows, Mr. Grey?”

 

His hand traveled from the back of her head to her back, grazing and rubbing gently up and down, humming with delight as she ate, “I know you haven’t thought about it much, but do you have any idea on which way you’ll be going with our deal at all?”

 

Anastasia looked up at him with disbelief, “I’m eating like you asked; one thing at a time, Mr. Grey. And is this really the time?” _How can one really be thinking about sex contracts with a dominant at all?_ She thought to herself. Regardless if she had been eating, it is a topic that should not really be thought about or worth considering in any consideration, really. That is what she made herself believe as she pushed off the inevitable choice.

 

 _Wait. Inevitable? Inevitable in which way exactly?_ She thought to herself.

 

However, she wanted him, and she can’t lie that she doesn’t. Her consciousness was split into two with this decision, brain and heart. Which will she go with? Maybe thinking about it is exactly what she needed. But is this the only way for her to be with him?—platonic, mutual dominant and submissive relationship. Essentially, it is a written “contract” of their relationship in verbatim of them being high-class, yet dark friends with benefits, right? It is a rich bachelor who claims that they want to own her body and free will for his pleasure, instead of dates and being in a relationship. Is this the smart choice for her?

 

“I was just curious if you considered our deal, Miss Steele,” Christian responded with a frown, pulling a stool out and sitting beside Anastasia, watching her scrape every noodle off her plate. She reached for her glass of water to wash down what she ate. “Good girl,” he praised.

 

He watched her as she took her plate and glass to the sink. “Leave them there. I’ll have Mrs. Jones clean it in the morning.”

 

Anastasia nodded her head, feeling bad. She turned on the sink and rinsed her plate for Mrs. Jones, but didn’t wash it just as Christian told her not to, not wanting to fight. She turned around, staring at a hopeful Mr. Grey with gray eyes awaiting her response.

 

Completely pushing the thought away, she called out his name, “Mr. Grey.”

 

Christian sat up straight from the call of his name, questioning her, “Miss Steele?”

 

She blinked at him. _He’s like a dog,_ she thought with admiration. “May I use your shower to wash up? It’s been quite a long day, and if you let me stay here, I’d like to be clean, please.”

 

His eyes blinked back at her, and then frowned, as if hearing something he didn’t expect “Of course. Let me show you where.”

 

Following him past the staircase, they passed through his master bedroom and reached his gloriously-white master bathroom. Although it was dark, the white bathroom looked incredibly clean and glistened under any light that came in. It was no surprise this room was beautiful, too. The bathtub became one with the floor and sunk into the ground in one corner, while the shower was across the other side, impressively big with a water system she was not familiar with. The sinks were adjacent to the shower, and near the faucets was another smaller room, assumed to be the toilet. There were some vents on the floor and other on the ceiling, while others were attached to the walls. All these smart systems made Anastasia want to leave in fear of breaking the technology; she just wanted a damn shower, and this room was giving her slight anxiety in fear of breaking everything.

 

“Take all the time you need,” he said, as he turned on the air ventilations and lights, visibly illuminating every shiny detail in his bathroom.

 

Anastasia turned to Christian quickly, “Mr. Grey, there aren’t any doors in the shower.” And there wasn’t. The only thing missing from the shower itself was its doors. There was nothing to cover or shelter her body from the water coming down or people coming in—no curtains, no doors, just a vastly impressive system unoccupied.

 

Christian smirked and teased, rubbing the back of his head, “Is that a question? If it wasn’t then it’s quite the excellent observation, Anastasia.” His shirt slightly lifted as he lifted his arm, exposing his briefs underneath and his Adonis belt. The lines of the lower abdominals revealed, a “v” that led to a dangerous destination.

 

“But how do you cover yourself from people coming in? Or prevent the water from splashing all over?” Her face was concerned and confused by this type of technology.

 

Cocking his head to one side, he answered back grinning at her cute confusion, “No one ever walks in, so I don’t need doors.” He walked over to the shower, “There are two shower drains; all the water from your shower just goes on here. It’s a wet room, too.” He walked over to the middle of the room revealing another shower drain, “This is an emergency drain for any sudden flooding.”

 

He left Anastasia to do her sanitary business, “Take your time, but not too long. You need… sleep.” He winked. Unsure if it was a joke, Anastasia shook the thought away knowing she had bigger things to deal with. She was left alone in the vastness of Christian Grey’s luxurious bathroom to fend for herself. She began to strip her clothes and ready for her shower.

 

As Anastasia stood staring at the shower naked, confused, and cold, she quickly grabbed at the nearest towel to wrap her body warmly. She rubbed her head, staring intently at the three silver knobs with frustration. She sighed and huffed, muttering quietly, “How the _fuck_ do you turn this on?”

 

Moments later, a head and a voice popped in, “Is something the matter, Anastasia?” She turned her head to a confused Christian Grey, cocking his head to one side. He asked with intended concern, but his eyes searched at her body, already imagining and remembering what was underneath. The white towel was snug tightly against her arms and her hair cascaded gently down her shoulders. “Beautiful,” he whispered to himself, eyes hungry and filled with desire.

 

She chewed the inside of her lip, embarrassed, “I can’t figure this thing out, Mr. Grey.” She looked up at him, flushed, “I don’t know how to turn your shower on.”

 

Christian shook his head, smiling at her cute need for independence and self-capability, “Why didn’t you say anything?” He gently went in the shower and reached forward the top faucet. His body was gently pressed against hers as his arm reached and turned the faucet. With that, the water gracefully fell from above like rain. He went on murmuring on her head, “Turn clockwise if you want the water to be hotter.”

 

“Thank you,” she thanked him, staring up at him, nervous from him again. Christian smirked and left out the room again. She didn’t know where to place her towel, so she just dropped it on the ground and proceeded to get in.

 

The water was already steaming with heat, and Anastasia let out a quietly deep sigh, and yet somehow it echoed the room. The water traveled down her body, soaking her gently. Her hair was saturated with its warm water, and she felt relaxed. She cupped her hands together and rinsed her face of warm water.

 

 _I could get used to this,_ her thoughts moaned. She turned to reach for a pump of soap on the shelf, but her grasp grabbed air. Her head whipped to the shelf, and the soap was gone.

 

Searching for the misplacement of soap, pressure tensed around her and she felt her body tense up by the sudden presence as they wrapped their arms around her body slowly. Anastasia gasped, whipping around to see Christian wrapped around his arms and pushing her against the shower wall. The water fell onto their bodies and faces like rain. Squinting to see, she bent her head back, hands pressed against the sides of his arms, “Mr. Grey?” Her words were breathless against him.

 

“I couldn’t resist, knowing that your naked body was right in the other room,” he said slowly. He was beautiful, his already naked body drenched from the water with droplets falling down his skin so effortlessly. His wet eyelashes dropped water slowly down his face, breathing hotly against her lips, “Just begging to be taken…I thought maybe you can use some company. Do you mind if I join you?”

 

Overwhelmed again by the suddenness of his actions, sardonically witty comments were all that came to her head, “Why bother knocking nor asking when you’ve already intruded?” _Please, join me…_ her thoughts and body excitedly contradicted with a sigh.

 

“Ask when it’s my bathroom? Knock when it’s my door?” Christian murmured against her lips, pushing his head onto hers. Both of his warm hands traveled up the slenderness of her body slowly, and his long fingers made their way around the curves of her breasts, cupping them gently from under. He pushed more pressure into grabbing her breasts gently; using both thumbs and index fingers to push against the plumpness of Anastasia’s breasts.

 

Her mouth opened from his touch, putting her hands above her head as her head tilted back. Christian was able to play with the doctor’s body so easily. She gasped as soon as his grip reached higher, clutching her breasts immediately and squeezing harder. His fingers from his clutch went between her pink nipples, hardening from his touch.

 

“A-Agh!…Mr…” Anastasia breathed more quickly, feeling her heart accelerate faster and unsure of Christian’s next movements and plans. She felt his one arm reach back around, his palm firmly pressed against her back while softly clutching her skin, rubbing it gently up and down.

 

 _“_ God, you are so beautiful, Anastasia,” Christian snarled lowly, making a carnal sound as he attacked her lips for a deep kiss. His lips pushed and kissed her with roughness and passionate aggression, feeding and lusting for her sweet taste. His other hand pressed firmly on the flatness of her stomach, turning it around and following down between her legs.

 

Anastasia’s body and breath shuddered, opening her eyes immediately and watching his hands below before he kissed her deeply again, taking her breath away. She closed her eyes, pushing back his kiss as he felt his palm push against her groin. She moaned into his mouth, opening it more and merely making it more so for his tongue to invade her mouth. His tongue latched onto hers, swiping and searing at one another. They consumed each other and tasted one another to and from one another’s mouth.

 

His palm lay on top of her clitoris, rubbing against her in circular motions slowly. “C-Christian …” she moaned and shuddered.

 

Christian stared down at her, lustful and hungry, watching his girl writhe and wiggle with her eyes fall back. He growled lowly with a murmur, “So responsive…so, so responsive and wet, Anastasia.”

 

Her wet juices gently dripped down his palm, causing him to switch his hands. He pulled his wet fingers and palm to her lips, “Taste yourself for me, baby…” he breathed hotly onto her lips.

 

Anastasia had one hand on his, pulling it closer to her face before taking in his fingers with her lips, letting them wrap around his fingers as she sucked. The saltiness of her slick juices went down her throat. He watched her take his fingers into her mouth, opening his mouth as he replicated her lips. She pulled his fingers out and gently licked his palm, “Good girl,” Christian moaned.

 

She stared at him for a second, slipping her tongue back into her mouth. He stared with a burning desire, pushing towards her again, breathing her in and penetrating her mouth again with his tongue. He took in the remains of her salty juices, but to him, she tasted desirably sweet. Addicted to her scent and taste, he swallowed and stole anything he found, rubbing his tongue against hers, while his palm continued rubbing at the clitoris of her groin.

 

Her moans whimpered, making guttural moans as he continued rubbing, picking up speed and rubbing in faster circles. “Come on, Ana …” Christian said through his teeth as he sucked and pulled at her bottom lip, “Open your eyes. I want to watch you when you come,” he commanded.

 

Christian’s hand continued doing magical work, furiously rubbing against her, now slipping two fingers against the slit of her lower lips and grazing them gently back and forth. She moaned out more, rolling her eyes back before closing them and bending her head back. Her body arched into a curve against his body, breasts pushed against his chest as he pleasured her groin.

 

He stopped his pleasures abruptly, speaking louder in his commands, “Open them.”

 

“No!” Anastasia moaned quietly. “ _Please_ ,” she begged in a whisper, eyes filled with desire for him.

 

Christian began rubbing his palm around again while rubbing his two fingers against the slit of her lips, “Open,” he repeated. She stared at him with desire, panting more quickly, arching her back against him again. His hand was wet against again from her hot juices, beginning to slip his two fingers suddenly inside, “Mmm…Anastasia…” he moaned against her lips, exchanging heated breaths between one another’s mouths. “Come for me, baby, give it to me.”

 

Anastasia’s body opened up for his fingers, walls pulsating against his trespassing digits, lips of her groin drooling for more of his erotic pleasuring sensations. He sped the rhythm of his fingers in and out of her, and she could feel everything he gave her. Circles moving around her. In and out…in and out…in and out his fingers went. “Come,” he murmured his command, and with that she let herself release what she had for him.

 

She came hotly onto his hand, pouring out any more of her warm juices onto him. Anastasia stared at him in a sexually-exhausted daze, dizzy from all the immense pleasure he pulled out of her. “Yes, baby. You are _mine_ …” Christian breathed, kissing her again sweetly. He never broke eye contact as he licked at his fingers, before claiming her lips with a kiss again, tongue protruding and swiping at hers.

 

He stepped back and motioned his finger in a circle, “Turn around,” he ordered, with the eyes of sexual attraction still lingering behind in his gray irises. “I’m going to take you from behind.”

 

Anastasia obediently followed his orders, complying to his wishes as she turned around. From behind her ear, he ordered again, “Put your arms against the wall.”

 

The anticipation of it all was exciting but torturous at the same time. She placed her hands against the cold stone of his shower, staring at her hands and watching her fingers feel the texture of its stone. Christian placed his hands at her side, and her insides jolted from his touch, feeling him agonizingly and slowly run up her sides. “What do you want, Miss Steele?” His teasing words murmured against her ear before grazing his teeth against her ear.

 

Her body arched onto Christian’s from behind, the curves of her cheeks pressed against his groin. She inhaled the steam of the warm water sharply, bending her head to lean against his shoulder, “ _Please_ …” her words pleaded in a whispered groan.

 

“Tell me,” Christian cooed as his hot kisses traveled to the nape of her neck. Even with his hot body pressed against hers with the warmth of the shower’s waters pouring on her, his domineering sexual aura sent shivers down her body, heating up her insides even more.

 

“I want you…” Her head tilted up as it turned to his gaze, “ _Please_ , Christian…” Her lustful gaze, the begging desire in her voice, and the way his named floated off her tongue was enough for Christian to tend to Anastasia’s wants and needs. The heat of moment made her forget about all there was in the world besides the warmth from him

 

Lips barely touching, he watched her lips gently tremble, waiting for his lips. He began breathing in her hot air before suddenly sliding himself into her deeply. Barely able to make an audible moan from the filling sensation he gave her, she gasped with her mouth opening more widely. Anastasia’s arms reached around from behind, caressing his head. In turn, his hands reached around and grabbed at her waist.

 

His breath hissed from the sensation of her inviting and warm walls, “ _Fuck_ , Ana…” He savored every inch of himself inside her, enjoying every pulsing and pleasurable moment as he invaded himself inside her. He began moving slowly inside of her, pushing and pulling slowly, feeling her grip hold onto him as he slid so easily to and from her.

 

Stealing her moans, he swallowed them into his breath, his lips kissing her deeply as his tongue penetrated her mouth. Her insides were already heating up again, and she could barely hold onto herself already. Christian began picking up speed slowly, grunting with every thrust he insisted into her body. With every push and pull, he moaned each word with each grunting thrust, “You. Are. Mine.”

 

Anastasia felt her body being torn apart against from Christian’s pleasure. She moaned and cried out again as she came out with a whisper, pouring herself onto him again, “Yours…” For a moment—in that moment—it became true; she meant what she said, and Anastasia was his.

 

Christian didn’t stop, though. He kept pounding into her, each hard thrust pushing deeper and deeper inside of her tight body. Her inviting walls pulsed and tightened with every favorable thrust. He wanted everything from her. Her come, her body, all for him. He held her chin, continuing to kiss and pour himself into him as he forced himself in. He growled and grunted, breaking their kiss for a second before he kissed Anastasia with greater force and intensity. Everything was deep and taken; her breath, body, and orgasms were all his to steal.

 

“Again, baby, _come on…_ ” Christian growled into her ear. His hands were placed at both sides of Anastasia’s waist, pulling her body back onto his as he thrusted faster. Her body was being pulled at the seams, and she felt herself free from her own body once again, letting go all of what she held together today for him. She cried out for him as she came onto him again, shuddered breaths escaping her moaning mouth, causing him to climax intensely with her. His arms reached around for her body, an arm draped around her bosom and one around her waist as he hugged her body into his, holding on tightly as they both let themselves go into each other’s body.

 

A breathy soft kissed sealed their acts, breathing gently into each other as the echoing rain from the showers warmly filled the room, droning everything else out.

 

 

“You haven’t said anything.”

 

Anastasia’s eyes opened, regaining the consciousness of reality as a voice came from beside her. After the intensity of the shower sex, it was Christian’s voice that made her remember that he had just cleaned and dried her hair and body soon after. She remembered that he groomed her, but she couldn’t remember the pampering herself. She was dressed in his grey t-shirt, which cascaded over her naked body as she wore his boxer briefs from underneath

 

Ironically and as morbid as it sounds, he broke her. She was letting her body fix itself of his welcoming and warm intrusion she invited into her. She turned to his face and staring back was the concerned look of a wary Christian Grey. He was wearing grey sweats, but nothing else.

 

“What’s wrong?” He lifted his hand to Anastasia’s cheek, frowning, “Did I hurt you?”

 

She shook her head with a reassuring smile before looking up at the ceiling, “I was just thinking.”

 

“Well, what about?” He furrowed his brows, grey eyes still concerned in his look.

 

Anastasia kept her spreading smile, watching peripherally that Christian’s chest was moving up and down gently with each breath he took. She didn’t answer and kept to herself.

 

“Tell me,” Christian persisted, shaking her body back and forth gently with his hand. “You never say anything.”

 

She giggled, causing a smile to infect his worried face. His eyes lightened as her giggle turned into a laugh, when she turned to him. Anastasia reached down to hold his hand, and in that grasp, he tightened his grip. She finally responded with a smile, “I’m thinking about a lot of things, really. All the events that led up to now, some I recall while others remain sort of a mystery even when they just happened.”

 

He cocked his head to one side and stared at her, his face beckoning for her to continue as her smirked, “That isn’t telling me anything.”

 

She shrugged and went on, “You were very angry,” stating with and amused smile. “I was thinking about how I don’t really know why you could be besides me being tardy. Another thought in the back of my head is our little deal.” Her voice drifted, nervous about this conversation she wanted to be done with.

 

Christian propped his elbow up, moving in closer and reaching his arm to cup her cheek. His thumb caressed her cheek, answering back simply, “That’s a lot to think about.”

 

“You didn’t hurt me. You were amazing, and you haven’t disappointed yet,” Anastasia mentioned, remembering his concerned questions with an amused giggle.

 

He leaned down and kissed her. She hummed quietly into his mouth, smiling and feeling his grin back against her lips. “That’s a beautiful sound, but I shouldn’t be surprised coming from a beautiful girl,” he murmured.

 

His voice was stern again, reverting back to his serious attitude, “I don’t want people claiming you or taking you.”

 

“But I am not yours,” Anastasia replied with honest nonchalance, teasing him with a small smile.

 

He sighed, grimacing with want and plead, “But I want you to be. That’s why I am so eager for you to be mine and have you sign. Just think of what we could be together, Anastasia. What I could show you and feel with you. I want to share so many things. Have you read what I gave you?”

 

She nodded, contemplating if she wanted to tread into this conversation. _Let’s get this over with._

 

“And? Did you research? Did you look into what you read?” Christian asked with a worried glance.

 

“Let’s do this together, I’d rather you tell me now with any questions I have. I don’t want to research if you have the answers for me.”

 

He shook his head, narrowing his eyes, “That will take forever, Anastasia, you need to go to bed.”

 

“No, no, you wanted to talk about this, and I want to get this over with,” Anastasia held onto his arm, stopping him before continuing, “I have the night shift tomorrow, so it won’t be a problem for me if you are worried about my health.”

 

Hesitating, Christian finally gave in after a minute, turning to his bedside table and pulling out his contract. He sat up and looked down at her, “Let’s go through these then.”

 

 _Do you always have spare contracts in your beside tables?_ Anastasia’s head nodded, “I don’t know if I want to be in this type of plutonic relationship.”

 

His eyes widened with alarm, “Already?! I thought were going to go through this together!”

 

“Well, right off the bat the rule number two states that ‘the fundamental purpose of this contract is to allow the Submissive to explore her sensuality and her limits safely, with due respect and regard for her needs, her limits and her wellbeing’; however, what I am concerned with is that, although what we are doing is vanilla to you, it doesn’t seem so vanilla to me,” Anastasia noted, slightly offended. “You know I’m not experienced in all this, and suddenly you are introducing me to such extravagant—and I say that lightly—endeavors. Pain and punishments is what I am worried about.”

 

 _Being hit. If only you knew… But how can one possibly enjoy that?_ Her logical conscience was practically yelling at her.

 

Christian marveled at her memory, cocking his head answering back, “There is a very fine line between pain and pleasure, and I can teach that to you, Anastasia, if you let me. I will show you starting with something light, and we can work our way up to the heavier stuff. But of course, you also have to trust me.”

 

Anastasia sighed, “As much pleasure as you’ve given me, I’d be a fool to say I trust you right off the bat.”

 

“And yet you trust me enough to give me your pleasure. You trusted me enough to give me your first orgasm and first orgasm through intercourse.” He noted, smirking with pride, “Why all of a sudden can’t you trust me with other sexual endeavors when you entrusted me with taking that? Quite fond memories if I may add.”

 

 _Fair point, Grey, that doesn’t mean I do though_ , she thought quietly, staring back up at the ceiling to avoid his distracting gaze. She cannot look at him without getting out of focus. If she wanted to have a clear mind of what she wants and needs, she needed to clear her head of any distractions.

 

“Fine,” Anastasia muttered with reluctance. “No to fundamental four.”

 

Christian smiled, “We’ll go over them through the appendix.” He quickly skimmed down to the next rule, “No?” Christian looked back up with confusion, “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

 

“No, as in I do not have any STIs or STDs because I have never had sex until I did with you. And no, I do not suffer from any ‘sexual, serious, infectious, or life-threatening illnesses but not limited to HIV, Herpes, and Hepatitis.’” She slightly quoted the fourth rule.

 

She did not currently suffer from any illnesses, years ago she did, but that is not what the fundamental state. She wanted to find as many loopholes she can before she signed away her life to him. Leukemia almost won, but as stubborn as Anastasia was, she wouldn’t let her own demons physically beat her.

 

His brows furrowed with eyes light with intrigue as he continued staring, “Did you memorize the contract?”

 

“I guess you can say that.”

 

Christian smiled, shaking his head, “I’m flattered by your dedication in this, but you have me in awe, Miss Steele.”

 

Anastasia scoffed before turning back with a smile, “Don’t kid yourself, Mr. Grey, this is my life we’re talking about.”

 

“Your pleasure,” he corrected with a smirk, gripping her chin before pecking her lips, “and mine, but also your well-being.” He added in a serious note.

 

She chewed at her lip before turning back up at the ceiling, “I agree with rules seven through ten; eleven and twelve I have concerns with. Change three months to one for rule eleven, and negate rule twelve, thirteen, and fourteen all together.”

 

Skimming through as she quickly spoke. His mouth dropped in disbelief, “We can’t do _one_ month, Anastasia; that’s not enough time for me to show you. And why would I nullify those? How else am I supposed to meet with you?” Christian’s nose flared and eyes blazed from Anastasia’s audacity.

 

“I’m a medical resident, Christian. I can’t come and be at your will because my schedule fluctuates randomly. You saw it even today how busy my life is as you waited for me. You can’t ask me to come to your sexual needs even if I wanted to,” she explained, hoping for him to reason.

 

Christian frowned, trying to make sense of her reason, “How am I going to see you? It can’t be one month with your schedule then.”

 

Anastasia shook her head, “I don’t think so, Christian; but I’m sure we’ll figure it out. One month.”

 

“Three months, if you don’t want or enjoy something, we can just put it on the list,” Christian adamantly stated, narrowing his eyes, “But, please keep in mind your role and mine, Anastasia.”

 

Sighing in frustration, causing Christian to scowl, she wanted to move on. Her mind traveled through all the rules of the dominant’s role, “Sub-rules one through twelve of fifteen are fine,” dismissing their previous topic. He skimmed down the rules with her and nodded his head. “Except number five,” her thoughts yelled in remembrance, “punishments— I don’t know if I can, Christian…”

 

He pressed the warm palm of his hand against her cheek, “I understand, but trust me, Anastasia. I won’t hurt you, and with time, you’d be able to take the pain. The sub-rule after that ensures I won’t leave any marks. I know what I am doing to your body; trust me to know that I do. Have I given you any reason to doubt the things I give you?” He asked, knowing the answer, but needing her reassurance.

 

“That’s different, but you aren’t wrong.” She chewed on her lips, siding with her gut as her other half of her conscience yelled. He caressed her face, relieved and happy by her answer.

 

“The submissive rules, Mr. Grey, I have complaints,” Anastasia began, “Fifteen, eighteen. ‘The submissive shall accept without question any and all disciplinary actions deemed necessary by the Dominant and remember her status and role in regard to the Dominant at all times,’ which then leads to nineteen. Why can’t I touch myself? And then, twenty; ‘submit to any sexual activity demanded by the Dominant and shall do without hesitation or argument,’ I don’t know about that, Mr. Grey. Finally, leading to twenty-one which was earlier, ‘accept[ing] whippings, floggings, spankings, caning, paddling or any other discipline the Dominant should decide to administer, without hesitation, enquiry or complaint.’ Mr. Grey, _absolutely not_ , and I _will not_.”

 

Christian sighed, exasperated from this topic, “You said you trusted me, Anastasia. This won’t work at all if you don’t. I won’t give you anything you can’t handle or take. I know how… new you are to all this. Think about your first time with me. Even then, I asked if you were okay throughout the entirety of our time together, and you let me know. It goes both ways.” He continued in a murmur, “As for nineteen, I want to be the one that gives you all your pleasure, Ana. I want it all.”

 

Taking into consideration what he said, she finally began to slowly give into these thoughts. Thoughts usually that consent to this type of “pleasure” is out of mind for her. But her usual thoughts of adamant “no” slowly began being ignored by his last comment.

 

Finally remembering the last three of her rules, Anastasia frowned. Her head turned to one side as she looked into his wondering eyes, causing him to fill with concern, “I can’t look at you?...”

 

Christian opened his mouth to speak, but he stopped mesmerized in her eyes. The lightness in her hazel warming irises, it warmed his cold heart, thawing it out of its tundra usually neglected and forgotten. She shook her head at the next rule, looking away, “I can’t call you by your name?”

 

She finally whispered with her ending thought, “I can’t touch you?”

 

Anastasia’s last statement caused him to lean away with a simple statement, pulling his hand away from her, “No…”

 

There was darkness in Christian’s gray eyes, and even though he was not matching her own gaze, he felt himself wilting from her stare. He felt like a spectacle, and uncomfortable, but little did he know her curiosity sparked a need to care and be compassionate towards him.

 

Her brained went through everything she learned from years and years of tests, academics, and medical school. Was it PTSD? Was he abused? Was it disease? Was he self-conscious?

 

Figuring him out like an unsolved puzzle was not for her benefit, but more so the need to help him—to help all those struggling, but as Anastasia continued to stare, he shook his head and declared, “Let’s talk about the rest tomorrow. You’ve exhausted yourself far enough, and as enjoyable as you are, you need to rest. We can talk about the rest tomorrow.”

 

Anastasia wanted to say something, but nothing came out without over-doubting everything she had in mind. He stared at her impassively, but with a guarded face, she still could see everything behind his mask he was hiding from the world. She recognized it in herself, finding herself to be a hypocrite. She wanted to touch him, or at least touch his face, but the mood shifted.

 

Christian watched her hand open, starting to reach out to him, but she pulled quickly back, resisting and clenching her hand in a fist to prevent her want and need to. The curious girl beside him wanted to respect him, even if she could not understand him. _That is how life is supposed to be,_ she scolded her curiosity, _no matter how much you want to know or help, respect their wishes._ It was the basic knowledge and training of being a caretaker and doctor.

 

She sighed deeply through her nose in a quiet exhale, trying to express what she could through her gaze, but there wasn’t much to say. It could be she was tired, or there was—again—a lot to think about, but she ended their conversation with him as he dismissed her to sleep. A weak smile was all she could reply back before turning her face the other way and laying on her side.

 

The young doctor felt him frown through his sigh of exasperating frustration. Christian leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly onto her head, as if his lips were merely hovering over her before muttering good-night.

 

Closing her eyes, Anastasia was contemplating in her thoughts, marveling everything he had said to her and wondering about every event she experienced with him up to the moment she was in bed with him now. Her conscience was going back and forth.

 

Logic versus desire. Head over heart. Mind over matter.

 

_Worry about yourself…You want him…Do you think this is the smartest or even correct decision to explore this side of intimacy?...Why not? You’ve already been so intimate with him; it wouldn’t hurt…_

Anxiety bloomed in her body as her thoughts forced her into a much-needed, deep slumber, haunted by her desires and his words; however, through and through everything Anastasia had been thinking about, one thing remained constant in her mind and life now—Christian Grey.

 

Anastasia’s eyes flooded open, but she found herself entangled in his arms as they were draped around her tightly with a leg between hers. She felt the heat of his body emanating against her own, and his warm scent drew her toward him even more. He was filling her senses in every physical way, but the young doctor needed to get away.

 

She bent her neck around slowly to look at the time. 4:12 a.m., it was around the time she had usually gotten up anyway. Turning back, she rested her cold hand onto his cheek, warming from the heat of his skin. This motion only caused Christian to instinctively pull Anastasia in closer to his body.

 

 _Shit. That was counterintuitive._ She chewed on her lip, figuring out how to get herself out of this tied-up situation. Pun-intended.

 

He was beginning to get overbearingly hot for her. With her small frame, she slowly entangled herself out of his arms, pausing a couple times as his body shifted against hers. She had to redo the entire process as his arms reset her escape a couple times, but as moments passed, she finally rolled out of his arms and out his bed.

 

Heated from his touch, she felt the coolness of the room brush against her skin. She sighed quietly from her parting lips, _Better._

Rushing to the bathroom as best as she can without disturbing the sleeping wolf, she brushed her teeth and splashed her face with the cold water as the sink ran. Anastasia weaved her fingers through her dark curls before, tiptoeing out the bathroom and then the bedroom, heading to the kitchen.

 

She found a man in the kitchen only to recognize it being the driver from yesterday—Taylor. He was out of his formal suit, wearing a white t-shirt that accentuated his muscles, and athletic shorts. It felt strange and rare to see a man like himself out of uniform, or so it seemed. He looked as though he had just finished working out. She would love to go for a run herself earlier, but she didn’t have any workout gear to do so.

 

He whipped his head around quickly, alerted from Anastasia’s sneaking presence only to blush and look away with a glass over water in his hand.

 

Shocked by his reaction, Anastasia frowned apologetically, “I’m sorry. Did I frighten you, Taylor?”

 

Clearing his throat, Taylor responded back nervously not making eye-contact, “Not at all, Miss Steele. I was just… not expecting you at this hour… like this; is everything alright?”

 

She giggled before stopping immediately as it echoed throughout the apartment, “I can say the same to you; I’m very used to getting up this early.”

 

“I was trained this way,” he nodded respectfully before putting his hands behind his back, after setting his finished glass of water down, “Is there anything I can do for you, miss?”

 

Anastasia blinked at him, studying his manner and stature. _Formal. He ‘trained’ for this?_ Realizing moments later of her attire, she made her way to the counter. She smiled gently at him, a facial gratuitous gesture for his courteousness and manners before taking a seat at the island table to hide her sleeping clothes, “If you aren’t so busy, and I am not taking up your time at this hour, I just have a question or two.”

 

Taylor answered back silently with a single nod.

 

“Who are you in relations to, Mr. Grey, Taylor? It doesn’t seem as though you are merely his driver.”

 

The quiet, burly man cleared his throat once before speaking, making eye-contact with her again, “I’m his bodyguard, miss.”

 

“Anastasia,” the young doctor corrected with a beckoning smile.

 

“Anastasia,” Taylor repeated with a polite smile.

 

“I assumed so. You didn’t look like any ordinary chauffeur, Taylor,” She complimented as she continued, “Earlier you mentioned you were ‘trained this way.’ What do you mean? Were you in the military at some point?”

 

In brevity, his answers kept with simple and monosyllabic, “Yes.”

 

With admiration, Anastasia nodded, “Branch?”

 

“Marine.”

 

She shook her head, not being surprised, and blew through her lips, “Tough.” Anastasia stood up as silence filled the room. She grabbed a glass from a cabinet and filled it with water, taking a sip after sitting down again. She smiled through a little memory, “You know, I wanted to join the military as well at one point, Taylor.”

 

His eyes lightened with amusement, ushering her to go on without speaking. It was probably protocols and formalities. Anastasia nodded, smiling as she held her glass with both hands, “Believe it or not, I wanted to be a marine as well. That was until I found out they don’t really have a good medical program, for me anyhow, so I opted for the Navy to become a Corpsman—correction, Corpswoman.”

 

Anastasia laughed as he smiled. He spoke, finally warming up to the conversation, “Was there a reason why you didn’t enlist, Anastasia, if I may ask?”  


Delighted from Taylor’s use of her name, she continued on, “I was a very curious girl. At the time, I was ahead of my class, and once I had graduated I researched about enlisting, seeing where I would fit best to becoming, essentially, a medic to help those on the field,” smiling warmly from such an impulsive decision of a memory she recalled at eighteen, “however, on the day I was ready to enlist, the recruiter convinced me that I should continue my education and pursue medical school before thinking to join. I’d like to think I made the correct decision with his help, but I do still think about enlisting from time to time to help.”

 

“If I may say something, you can’t go wrong with either decision when they both lead to helping others in the end,” Taylor reassured, offering his own words of kindness. “In the end, you made the right decision based on what you wanted.”

 

Nodding before rolling her eyes, she commented, “Lord knows what would’ve happened if I had met Christian at the time.”

 

Taylor chuckled lightly, defending his boss, “He looks out for everyone in his best interest, miss.”

 

Another question sparked her curiosity, “That reminds me, how long—”

 

“What going on?” A husky voice inquisitively snapped, causing both heads to whip and turn in the direction of the sound. A shirtless man in his gray pajama bottoms hung lowly against his hips, but the face on that body matched with the heat she felt when she had woken up earlier.

 

 _That was rude. I can’t talk to anyone now?_ Her brows furrowed with matching irritation, causing Christian to narrow his eyes and scowl, “I was just getting to know Taylor and introducing myself.”

 

“He knows you. There’s no need for introductions,” Christian’s voice was clipped and short. He moved toward her, the wolf approaching and ready to claim his lamb once again.

 

“Sir,” Taylor nodded, and then briskly exited the kitchen. He was out of sight, but not out of mind.

 

As Anastasia swiveled her chair back around facing Christian, she leaned back from his close proximity with his nose gently exhaling and blowing onto her hair. She stared up into her eyes, hoping to subdue his aggravation and irrational protectiveness (considering Taylor being the bodyguard).

 

“Good morning, Christian,” her voice greeted him with confusion yet contrition.

 

“Good morning, Anastasia. What are you doing up at this hour? I woke up, and you weren’t there…” His eyes stared down into her with concern as his arms reached around. He looked disturbed and disappointed, pouting at her.

 

“I usually get up this early,” She moved up and pecked his pouting lip, but before she could lean away, he pressed his lips onto her in a deeper kiss, holding her cheek. His tongue immediately went for hers, letting her tongue wrap around his and voluntarily be his. As he finally pulled away, she responded back against his lips, “I was thirsty, and then I found Taylor when I entered the kitchen.”

 

“You should have awakened me,” he explained, “I would have fetched you a drink if you needed one, especially when you are dressed like this, Ana.” He caressed Anastasia’s face with his hand, his nose continuously rubbing against hers pleasingly slow. “I don’t like seeing you with him alone like this,” he held her chin, kissing her gently with possession, “not when I want what’s mine. Next time, stay in bed with me.”

 

Flattered but amused by his childishness, she answered with her own explanation, “We just talked. I had some questions about him, and he about me when appropriate.”

 

“Ask _me_ ,” Christian scolded with his eyes, arms wrapping more tightly around. She felt him breathe her in as he held her, muttering “Always so eager for information, Miss Steele.”

 

Anastasia sighed through her nose, shaking her head. _You make things much more difficult than needed to be, Mr. Grey._

He kissed her again gently before murmuring, “Come back to bed with me…”

 

“I’m not tired, Christian,” she shook her head.

 

“Neither am I,” he responded with darkening eyes. He persuaded her again with his huskily seductive voice, “Come to bed with me, Anastasia …”

 

She couldn’t resist, placing and wrapping her arms around his neck. He lifted her up with one swoop into his arms and kissed her fervently, walking back into his bedroom. He tossed her gently onto the sheets, and she lay back sprawled against the softness of the satin material. She breathed deeply with excitement and anticipation, opening her eyes to find him lunging over her body.

 

His arms were at both sides of her face as he leaned over, staring down into her golden brown eyes, melting away and warming his body more, “Do you have any idea how much you turn me on, Anastasia?” He spoke huskily as he leaned in closer against her lips.

 

Anastasia shook her head, jokingly commenting in an almost inaudible whisper, “You’re crazy…”

 

“For you? Most definitely, Miss Steele.” Christian hummed against her lips as he gently snatched at her bottom lip, speaking between his teeth as he pulled and sucked.

 

Her breathing shook and her chin lifted as he pulled at her pink lip, moaning into his mouth as he kissed her again deeply. He pushed his body down onto hers, feeling his erection bulge and press against her crotch. He quickly grabbed both her hands, placing them above her head with his one hand while the other hand skimmed up the shirt on her body. His hand pressed against her stomach as it slowly pushed and moved up her body before kneading at her breasts.

 

“What am I going to do with you, Miss Steele?” He murmured against her lips with a pleased hum. “Will you trust me?” He stared down with a hungry daze.

 

Anastasia’s eyes fluttered opened, looking through her dark lashes at his lustful stare. She panted, watching her chest and his move in and out as they inhale and exhale. She muttered quietly in a pleading manner, “Yes, sir…”

 

He closed his eyes from the words off her lips, inhaling quickly and deeply before leaning down and exhaling into her mouth as he kissed her deeply and aggressively again. He lifted the shirt high enough to reveal her body and face, but not her eyes, folding it enough to create a blindfold for her not to see. While not completely off her body, Christian took this to his advantage, and the sleeves of the shirt restrained her arms from moving.

 

It was a game of feel in many senses and scenarios. Darkness shrouded her vision as the fabric of the shirt forced her vision to close. Her body grew more eager for him, and she instinctively closed her legs to restrain her pleasure from being wanton and needy.

 

“Don’t you dare, baby…” He growled with a smirk. “You can’t hide from me, not from me and not in here.” With his other fondling hand, he pulled the boxer briefs from her legs in a swift motion, revealing the evidence of her wet and messy desires for him. He murmured amusingly, “Oh what do we have _here_?”

 

Christian’s hand crept gently up her thigh, swiping at her warm juices with his fingers and letting it collect in his hand before he cupped at her sex, finding his desired destination, “Oh, Miss Steele. You are deliciously ready for me.” He pulled his hand to his lips, sucking loudly at his fingers, as if teasing her, “But, let’s see how far you can take it.”

 

Anastasia gasped from his touch, squirming from under him as her legs moved back and forth slowly. He shook his head, scolding softly in a growl, “We need to learn how to keep you still, Ana.”

 

“I can’t… Please _,_ Christian…” Her voice struggled to find its words.

 

“All good things, Miss Steele. We’re just getting started,” his husky voice murmured seductively, teasing at her anticipating needs. His hand slowly crept back down between her legs. “Still,” he commanded quietly.

 

 _Still._ She repeated in her head. _Still, still, still._

His fingers began moving against the slit of her drooling lips between her lips, excited and wanting him more. Her body was itching to move, struggling to find its way to relax and calm down from his tantalizing touch. His lips breathed and hovered over her breasts, and then she felt his lips against her nipple before he took her into his mouth. He suckled gently onto her, using his teeth to gently pull and tease at her before switching to the next breast. He repeated this a few more times while placing wet, hot kisses around her breasts.

 

 _Come on. Mind over matter, Ana._ She tried soothing herself and drawing her attention away from his pleasure, but his hand and mouth kept drawing her back as his finger began sliding inside her deeply, causing her to breathe shakily and moan out loudly.

 

“ _Yes,_ ” Christian’s voiced hissed pleasingly, “let me hear you, baby.”

 

As he began sliding his finger into her deeply back and forth, Anastasia felt another finger sliding into her fully. She groaned louder, knowing he was going to break her again like he knew how. He watched her chest move up and down, seeing his girl unfold before him like he always loved to view.

 

 _Oh, god. Fuck this. I can’t,_ her thoughts echoed. “Christian… _Please,”_ Her begging voice was now serious, pleading for him for more.

 

But Christian’s torturing and alluring touch persisted, forcing his way in more deeply and faster this time, curling and kneading into her harder and with more lustful force. Her legs began to tremble as it matched with her hitched breathing. He moaned onto her as he continued fingering his way in and out of her, “Come on, baby. Give it to me. Come for me.”

 

His words were her undoing, and she let herself go, releasing her tension and juices onto him. Anastasia’s moans were captured by his lips, and suddenly her body was filled with his hard erection. Gasping and moaning, as he filled her through her orgasm, beginning to move and thrust through her.

 

“Fuck,” Christian grunted, thrusting deeper and harder into her, finding his way into her as her body pulled him in. He began moving through her orgasm, and her need for this moment became more evident through the wet mess of her desires.

 

Her body rocked and moved in the motion of his lustful thrusts, eager to fill her more deeply and fill her with himself. Anastasia’s head bent backward as she felt her body coming to its climax again after coming seconds ago, and her legs slowly wrapped around his waists. As her body extended and moved, her full breasts bounced with her, and all that he could do was take in the sight of her body as much as he could.

 

The pushing and pulling of his cock began picking up pace, only causing Anastasia to moan louder, dripping more wetly as his hand reached down and toyed her clitoris in circles with his thumb. The overstimulation caused her closed eyes roll to the back of her head. Her insides were hot all over from his pleasuring cock, and he didn’t stop. She was going to fall apart again, and Christian knew. He wanted her to do it once more, with a hungry order “Yes, baby. _Again_.”

 

Her gasps shook, coming in audibly and inaudibly while releasing the intensity of her passion for him all over. She finally grunted out the air she found, forgetting and unable to breathe for a few seconds through their moment. Christian wrapped both his arms around her as he poured himself into her, yanking the shirt away from her head and tossing it across the room. His hands came for her face and cupped her cheeks, kissing her lips over and over until the feeling passed. He filled her up, and she was full of him again.

 

Minutes passed as they let themselves unfold and let go of their bodies, while their arms and legs clutched onto each other’s bodies. Anastasia felt the heavy weight of Christian’s body on hers to be comforting and warming. Her arms were entangled around his neck, while his head was buried into her nape, breathing in her scent. He sighed happily onto her lips, kissing them gently and longingly.

 

“Please, consider it,” his voice softly spoke.

 

When the brunette had opened her eyes, the sight revealed the same beautiful man before her. His forearms were on both sides of her head, while his pressed forehead backed away from hers, and staring back into her eyes were eyes that needed her.

 

“Please,” Christian repeated again, and for the first time, Anastasia felt as though she was hearing him beg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, let me know what you all think!


	2. Blueberry Muffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of their first meet.

“I… will consider it.”

 

Christian’s eyes fractionally widened, “Will you?” He reached down and laced his fingers through hers.

 

Anastasia smiled at the shocked look on his face, “I never said ‘no’ to be fair. And if you want to get technical, I have been considering it.”

 

“What can I do to show you otherwise?” He pulled his hand away and caressed her cheek, rubbing the cheekbone with his thumb.

 

She chewed on her lip, “Just give me time. There is a lot to think about, and to an extent, I do trust you, Christian. I just want to make sure that I am happy, but also happy with making you happy.”

 

“I was a virgin when I met you,” the young doctor said as she turned her face and gaze toward his ceiling, “and you showed me a whole new world I’ve never seen before. You are the first person I have ever been intimate with, Christian, but considering to be… what you want me to be is…”

 

She frowned, dismissing words that came her way. _Wrong. Dangerous. Frightening. Morbid. Dark._

 

“Unexpected?” Christian chimed. The tone of his voice caused her to sense his mood beginning to turn as he frowned.

 

“Unexpected.” She nodded her head. Turning back to him, she saw the frown on the gorgeous man beside her. She leaned forward and kissed his lip gently, holding his face before moving up to kiss his nose, then his forehead, and back at his lips again.

 

He grinned against her lips, growling lowly as he deepened his kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he moved himself on top of her, propping himself up with his forearms as each arm were beside her head.

 

Murmuring contently, she said to him with her repeated reason, “Time. And have a little faith in me, too. Trust goes both ways, remember?”

 

Their blissful moment was then interrupted by a low growl from Anastasia’s abdomen. She opened her mouth to say something, but out of nervous and awkward uncomfortableness she let out a laugh, causing him to grin and smile with her.

 

As she laughed, Christian kissed the corner of her lips with a chuckling grin, “What a remarkable sound to hear so bright and early this morning.” He stood up after getting off the bed and lent out his hand, “Shower or food first? I’ve never had someone wake up earlier than me. Another first.”

 

“Whom? Me?” Anastasia asked innocently with a grin as she took her hand, content by his comment. “Food first, please, if that is alright with you, Mr. Grey,” she quickly answered right after.

 

Christian pulled the naked girl into his arms, embracing her body against his as he answered both of what she asked and had said, “Of course, Miss Steele.” He couldn’t help but have her in his arms all the time, unable to show his restraint even if he wanted to. He kissed her head, murmuring into hair, “What the _hell_ are you doing to me?...”

 

His words repeated and echoed in her mind, playing on loop like a broken record as she, too, was wondering the same thing about her.

 

The naked man soon slipped on a pair of his gray sweats and then handed the naked girl the shirt he tossed from their earlier sexual rendezvous. She slipped it onto her body immediately while getting out of Christian’s bedroom with his hand in hers.

 

Anastasia sighed happily as she headed towards the island table again, taking a seat with hands folded, “So, what’re we having for breakfast today, Mr. Grey?”  


Christian paused in place, nervous and shy all at once, but he didn’t speak.

 

Feeling as though she had been speaking to herself, the brunette turned around and stared at him in wonderment. She questioned him with a silent lifting brow.

 

“I was going to ask you that question.”

 

Her brow remained lifted, forcing itself to lift higher from his comment. Not comprehending from his vague thoughts and expression, she shrugged and asked, “So? I asked first? I’ll just have what you’re having. It’s not a problem, Christian.”

 

Christian’s mouth twisted, narrowing his eyes, “I don’t usually cook.”

 

Anastasia made a face, before narrowing her eyes back. She stated in question, “You don’t cook.”

 

She though, _Of course, you wouldn’t when your staff could deliver or cook the food for you._ But after a few moments, it dawned on her—like clockwork, the gears in her head began shifting as she came to the realization, repeating herself again, “You don’t cook.” _Why bother learning? You never needed to._ The young doctor stifled back a smile and laugh, chewing on her lip to prevent her amusement and humor from showing.

He narrowed her eyes at her and smirked, moving towards her, “Something amusing to you, Miss Steele?”

 

“Nope. None at all, Mr. Grey,” she shook gently as she tried repressing her giggle, looking away. It was cute to her.

 

“Liar,” Christian stated, smirking down before wrapping his arms around, “make me food, wench.”

 

Anastasia gasped at his teasing and sexist comment, watching the man chuckle under his breath from his humor. It sounded different than his usual stern self. This side of him made her join him in his amusement. Shaking her head, she headed toward the fridge to rummage through his food while being rewarded seconds later with a smack on her rear. She jumped from the motion, but ignored it.

 

 _Eggs, bacon, and toast; simple and easy enough,_ Anastasia nodded to herself.

 

Setting the food on the counter beside the stovetop, the brunette reached up for a skillet along a metal hanging rack of cookware. She turned the stove on and set the skillet on top to heat up.

 

Weaving through her dark locks with her fingers, she began getting to work. After buttering the skillet carefully, letting the aroma fill the kitchen and her nose, she began cracking the eggs one by one carefully to avoid little eggshells—two for him and two for her. Unsure of how he liked his eggs, she decided he would eat whatever she cooked, considering she was the only one in the room that knew how.

 

Sensing a pair of eyes observing her closely, Anastasia broke the void of silence with small talk, “I can’t believe it’s been a week since I’ve been in Seattle. I almost feel like I can’t remember how I got here with everything that has happened so far.”

 

“Time goes by quickly when you occupy yourself,” he replied in agreement, as he smiled to himself.

 

“Very quickly,” she nodded, drifting into her thoughts as she concentrated on the eggs, “but then I also remember everything that has happened as well.”

 

The chair squeaked lightly as Christian swiveled out of his seat toward Anastasia, placing his arms around her waist. Curious to what was on her mind, he asked quietly, murmuring in her hair as he inhaled her scent, “And how are you enjoying Seattle so far?”

 

Unintentionally ignoring the words spoken from the gorgeous dominant, her mind drifted elsewhere.

* * *

 

_More than a week ago … Monday, April 30, 2018_

Anastasia Steele hated flying. Just sitting and waiting around made her too anxious as she waited for her flight to end, and the turbulence was no help either—like waiting at the doctor’s office as ironic as it was. Shaking the thoughts of her limited flying experiences away, as well as her flight earlier, she luckily headed into an unused awaiting taxicab, leaving Seattle-Tacoma International Airport as she told the driver her destination to her apartment. It was nice being on the ground. It was nice just walking.

 

“You ever been to Seattle, miss?” the driver called out from his seat as he headed onto the freeway.

 

Staring at him in the rearview mirror, she shook her head and responded, “Never. It’s my first time here.”

 

“Ah. Well, welcome to Washington!” He exclaimed gruffly. Scratching his beard loudly, he asked, “Where did you just fly from?”

 

“California. The Bay Area.” _I’m going to miss the food. Not so much the air, or the smell of weed, however..._ She thought to herself.

 

“I heard it’s a nice place there,” the driver commented.

 

“Are you here for family or just traveling for yourself?” He asked again, after minutes of silence.

 

The young doctor sighed, recalling the most recent events of traveling minutes ago, “Neither. I’m not much of a traveler. I’m here for a job.”

 

“Job?!” He asked in shock. “Aren’t you a little too young to be doing something like that?”

 

 _What do you mean?_ Anastasia cocked her head as she furrowed her brows, “I don’t think I am. I’m twenty-two, old enough to work.”

 

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend you, miss. The people I drive aren’t usually coming to Seattle for job offers, not that _I_ know of” he chuckled to himself. “I got a lot of crazy stories that would last you a whole week. But anyway, what job?”  


Excited, but also shocked to even mention it, the young doctor said, “I was a medical resident at Stanford Medical Center before I was relocated to Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital.” Once Anastasia received the news of her acceptance into Grey-Sloan’s surgical residency program, she knew she couldn’t pass it up. After all, she would be working amongst award-winning surgical gods and goddesses. Daydreaming about the future of her time there made the young doctor melt in her seat.

 

“The fancy, sh-mancy hospital?! And you’re only twenty-two. _Holy shit._ How did that happen?” He shouted and asked, dumbfounded in his seat.

 

 _Long story._ She thought as she smiled through his astonished flattery. She explained shortly, “I would just say, hard work.”

 

The driver whistled through his teeth, shaking his head with a smile as he pulled the cab onto the curb of their destination, “Well, we’re here. The ride is $13.50, miss.”

 

Rummaging through her bag, Anastasia pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to her driver. She stated simply with a smile, “Thank you for the ride, sir. Keep the change.”

 

He smiled and nodded with thanks, “Let me help you with your things.” Before she could oppose, the driver was already out the door and grabbing her bags for her. She left the car and smiled, grabbing her bags from him after thanking him.

 

The man brought out his hand, “Percy Goldman.”

 

She grinned, grasping her hand into his before flipping her hair out of Seattle’s winds way, “Dr. Anastasia Steele. Thank you for the ride, Mr. Goldman.”

 

“It was a pleasure,” Percy smiled before heading back into his cab. As she was heading up the stairs to enter through the front desk, he quickly rolled down his window and called out, “Hey!”

 

The brunette turned around, widening her eyes and waved at him, smiling curiously. He continued shouting due to the distance, “If I ever end up in your hospital, I’ll know who to call!” He winked.

 

 _Such a common typical doctor joke,_ her thoughts mused. And with her typical response, she replied back loudly enough for him to hear, “Let’s hope you don’t end up in mine, though!” Anastasia giggled, waved good-bye again, and then entered the building.

 

The woman working at the front desk was not in a happy mood that day. Janice, a perm-haired, mid-thirties lady with two lip piercings and a chin piercing ignored and avoided to acknowledge Anastasia’s existence for a couple minutes after the doctor had greeted her. The curly haired woman followed the protocol new tenants usually had, asking for verification and paperwork. After signing a couple other papers, Janice gave her the key and simply said “202”—the room to the place she will be staying at for the remainder of her surgical career.

 

After getting some help from nearby neighbors—seeing the doctor trying to budge the door open—they taught her how to use it. Twist the doorknob off the doorway, and then kick the door down. It was the ritual all incoming residents of the apartment complex had to take in order to really fit in with everyone else. Mortified but humored at the same time, the brunette laughed nervously at the unfamiliar security and trust of her new home, questioning her own safety and sanity for making the choice to live there. Picking up the door carefully, she pushed it back into place before locking it, wondering if locks were even necessary while living there.

 

In short, the apartment was small—perfect enough for what she needed; a secluded haven for rest and peace. Walking in, she instantly spotted muddy-brown walls, with a dim light peeking through the old greenish-grey curtains of a nearby closed window. She set her items down before approaching the window to open it. It was incredibly stuffy, but with enough ventilation, things should be fine. Her small kitchen was adjacent to the small living space in the middle. Her place was empty and vacant with only a refrigerator and stovetop accompanying her. Walking through both connected rooms led a doorway to a smaller bedroom big enough for a queen-sized bed to fit (but nothing bigger), and beside _that_ room was a small door-less bathroom.

 

 _It’s no castle, obviously, but this place is only meant for sleep,_ she optimistically convinced herself. Anastasia went over to her bag to grab her phone, the last time she checked her device was right before her scheduled flight around 6 a.m. Turning on her phone, the screen revealed it to be 9:47 a.m.

 

 _Shit. I need to leave_ now _. I don’t want my boss to be pissed at me for being late when she hasn’t even officially met me._ It wouldn’t make a good impression for Dr. Miranda Bailey, as well. She immediately shoved her phone into her jeans along with her wallet and keys before rushing out her apartment, making sure she hid her belongings in the door-less bathroom before leaving.

 

Luckily for the young doctor, her workplace wasn’t too far away. The hospital was beautiful—it was a Katherine Fox Hospital, would anyone expect less? The Katherine Fox Foundation, formerly known as the Harper Avery Foundation and Hospitals, was the multi-million dollar foundation that advocated and awarded surgeons and researchers for surgical innovation; finding newer, safer, and better ways to save lives in many ways and forms as well as educating other doctors to do the same. To even work at a hospital like that required a pristine résumé, hard work (if it wasn’t already clear), and networking. No one can really just apply (without expecting rejection) at such a prestigious, well-funded hospital with new technology, equipment, and benefits for their employees. Dr. Steele had to thank her former boss at Stanford for the opportunity she was given.

 

There was a lot to look around, but time was of the essence, and it should not be wasted until she had her meeting with her new chief-of-surgery. After rushing to the desk and asking the female receptionist at the front for directions, Anastasia was instructed to use the elevator to reach the third floor of the surgical wing and to walk down the bridge to find the chief’s office. Shuffling past people and ignoring the shiny distractions in every corner of her eye, she reached Dr. Bailey’s office, panting with three minutes to spare.

 

Giving herself a minute to slow down her heart rate, which was already anxious for her meeting with the boss, Anastasia combed her hair with her fingers to tame her unruly mane before finding the courage to knock on the door.

 

“Come in!” The bellowing voice yelled. As Anastasia entered, Bailey followed up with a question and a widened gaze as she stopped her administrative work, “And what can I do for you?”

 

Dr. Bailey was short, shorter than Anastasia by being almost a foot smaller than what the young doctor had expected. Her polished, copper-honey hair was curled away from her face, revealing her round face and intimidating stare. For someone as small as Bailey, she had a domineering presence and aura that almost made Anastasia feel smaller.

 

Finding her voice, Anastasia spoke, “Good morning, Dr. Bailey. My name is Anastasia Steele, and I believe I have a meeting with you right now at 10.”

 

The chief’s eyes widened, and she stood up, quickly making her way around her desk to shake the young brunette’s hand, “Of course, Dr. Steele. I’m glad we can finally meet!” She peered at Anastasia up and down, making little comments to herself, as the small doctor shook the nervous resident’s hand.

 

“The pleasure really is all mine. Thank you for meeting me and having me here. Your hospital is beautiful,” Anastasia said as she tucked her hair behind her ear. She took her seat after being ushered by the chief to sit, watching the little woman snake her way back behind the desk.

 

Dr. Bailey cleared her throat, opening her drawers on the side and rummaging through files before picking out one with Anastasia’s name on it, “Got it,” she muttered. She opened Anastasia’s file and paperwork, skimming through everything before asking questions, “Dr. Steele, how far along were at Stanford’s residency program?”

 

“I was in my final year of my residency before getting transferred to Grey-Sloan. I still am.” Anastasia replied.

 

Taking a few minutes to read over the paperwork, she looked back up at the young doctor and smiled, “Dr. Hawn spoke very highly of your progress and skills. It says that you worked with her for six years?”

 

The resident smiled, recalling her time with her former boss, “Yes, ma’am. When I was earning my Ph.D and MD, I applied to work as her administrative assistant throughout my time in medical school. It wasn’t until then that I also got accepted into the surgical residency at Stanford there as well. I like to joke around that she was tired of me and wanted to get rid of me.” Anastasia chuckled, causing her boss to humor with her.

 

“She spoke only good things of you. Have you applied to Grey-Sloan before? I tried checking your application and the history of your files, but the database only showed your name appearing this following year,” Bailey inquired curiously.

 

“It’s any doctor’s dream to work at a hospital like this—this hospital specifically. I was intimidated, so I figured to never really fill out anything nor apply because I didn’t think I would make it in. Dr. Hawn convinced me otherwise one day, and kept pushing me. Later on, I realized I didn’t have much to lose but receive a rejection,” the resident spoke happily, speaking highly of her mentor as she was recalling such wonderful memories of Dr. Hawn’s encouragement and boosting self-confidence. The moment Anastasia was having with Dr. Miranda Bailey was all due to Dr. Susan Hawn.

 

“If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, Dr. Steele,” the chief asked with furrowing brows. “The paperwork on here states you entered Stanford’s residency program at twenty. This must’ve been an error. Can you give me a timeline to make some of the changes on this paperwork because it’s not making any sense?”

 

Anastasia blinked, embarrassed at her question and assumption as she flushed pink, “Twenty-two, chief.”

 

Bailey eyes bulged from her sockets in shock, “Twenty-two?” She shook her head in disbelief, “You gotta explain this to me, Dr. Anastasia Steele.”

 

She opened her mouth, “It’s the truth, Dr. Bailey!”

 

“You’re telling me you are a _twenty_ - _two_ -year-old _senior_ resident?” Bailey continued, shaking her head before folding her hands together.

 

“Yes, ma’am. I graduated early from my university with my MD at twenty,” Anastasia nodded.

 

“And you are now a _senior_ resident within _two_ years of experience at your former residency,” the chief stated as a question. The resident responded silently with a single nod, getting more nervous by each passing and prejudice second, while her hand got hotter and clammier.

 

The young brunette stared at her soon-to-be boss in terror. _Am I already out the door? Is this ageism? Does ageism exist? Is that even a word? What will I do? I already moved in. Do I just fly home?_ Anastasia’s thoughts were running her around in her head chaotically as the two of them sat in silence, listening to Bailey’s fingers strum against her wooden desk.

 

Her voice boomed again, “A woman has gone into labor! And she wants to naturally give birth to her _beautiful_ baby…”

 

 _Wait, what? What is this?..._ Anastasia thought, staring blankly at her boss as she began speaking.

 

Continuing, Bailey said, “How many centimeters does a woman’s cervix need to be in order to start the transitional stage of labor?”

 

 _You’re testing me,_ Anastasia realized. She sat up straight, answering, “10 centimeters.”

 

Nodding, the chief went on, “Ready to finally give birth, you reach into the mother’s cervix and feel the baby’s head. How long does the process of giving birth at this point take on average?”

 

 _The process of giving birth on average? Wait, unless that is a trick question, her story is wrong._ Shaking her head, the oral test-taker responded right after, “Dr. Bailey, the woman can’t push if the baby’s head is in the cervix. I’d have to rotate the baby.”

 

“Good, that was a trick question. But then, you suddenly realize you cannot rotate the baby without risking the lives of the mom and the baby.”

 

“Then a caesarean section needs to be done on the mother.”

 

“Correct. The surgery goes well, and you start to close the mother up. Every incision and every cut is now sutured when you suddenly see that she is bleeding.”

 

“Bleeding?”

 

“Yes. And it’s not from her uterus,” Bailey firmly stated with arms folded together again.

 

 _Not a uterine rupture? Internal bleeding?_ “Did the woman have a fall? Was she injured before she went into labor?” Anastasia asked, as her nerves began getting to her.

 

Bailey shrugged, “I don’t know. Sometimes we, surgeons, are called into surgeries not knowing what the hell happened to the patient. We don’t ask questions on how it happened; we just fix them. Now, how are you going to fix this mother?”

 

Intimidation began setting in, _Don’t let her get to you. Stand your ground. Relax and concentrate, Ana._

 

She repeated herself again as she challenged the resident, “All you know is that there is a bleeder, and it’s not from her uterus. What’re you going to do, Steele? She’s going into hypotension now.”

 

Panicking as if Anastasia was in the actual operating room, she quickly asked, “How’s her fluids? Her I.V.?”

 

“Fluids are fine. But there’s blood coming out from around her I.V.,” Bailey explained, continuing to stare down the resident.

 

Like a drop of blood falling into an open sea of water—the sound echoing her mind—the brunette’s eyes lit, declaring, “She’s in D.I.C. She needs platelets, packed red blood cells, and FFP. If she isn’t bleeding from a uterine rupture than it must be something else from within.”

 

“Good. Now what?”

 

 _Damn it. I thought I was done._ Anastasia sighed to herself, thinking she might break a sweat. She chewed on her lip and smiled weakly, “Call an attending?”

 

“HA!” Bailey bent her head back as she yelled before chuckling with an entertained smile, “There’s no time. _Very_ _good_ answer, though; I wasn’t expecting that.”

 

Smiling proudly, the challenged resident relaxed a bit, moving on to answer, “I would have no choice but to open up her abdomen and find the source of the bleed.”

 

The boss nodded, “Guide me through your procedure, doctor.”

 

“I need to open her up through a midline laparotomy. After the cut, I need to pack the four quadrants, and find the source of the bleed to prevent her from bleeding out.”

 

“You found your treasure. The spleen is the source of the bleeding.”

 

 _You got this. Keep going._ The doctor kept encouraging herself through reassuring comfort. Continuing, Anastasia explained, “I have to mobilize the spleen by dividing it by its ligamentous attachments, assess the injury, and stop the hemorrhage.”

 

Bailey smiled more widely, nodding her head with approval, “She won’t stop hemorrhaging, though, even after that.”

 

“If it’s that massive of a splenic bleed then I’d have to perform a complete splenectomy,” the resident shrugged tiredly, out of her wits, “But in fairness, I’d have to be in that operating room to see the damage myself before making that decision.”

 

“I had to be sure, Dr. Steele,” the chief explained with a smirk, “but you passed.”

 

Anastasia grinned widely with excitement, getting the approval she wanted from her superior, but that didn’t stop Bailey from continuing, “I’m impressed. To be honest, I only expected you to find the bleed, but you went on without me having to ask. That’s when I knew you officially passed in my book. I mean, I’m still incredibly surprised by your knowledge and lack of experience with your age to top that all off, but at least what you said shows that I can trust you if I needed you to perform and act _efficiently_. But, Dr. Hawn was right for sending you to us; you just performed a solo-surgery without your attending or chief-of-surgery.”

 

In awe by the reward of Chief Bailey’s kind words after acing her “test”, the resident nodded her head and smiled with a flush.

 

Bailey stood and lent out her hand again as Anastasia did the same towards her, speaking again, “You’re good, but know that I don’t need smart doctors. I need surgeons that I can trust to make the right judgments, calls, and work effectively as well as efficiently just as you proved to me just now. Actions speak louder than words in this case, and if you can prove you can do it like you did just now, then I look forward to seeing you grow and working with you, Dr. Steele.”

 

“Thank you, Chief Bailey, for the opportunity and for having me. I won’t let you down,” Anastasia promised, firmly taking her hand before stepping away.

 

“You can pick up your pager and name badge in HR. Expect an email before the day ends; I’ll see you tomorrow,” the chief added before dismissing her with a wave and smile.

 

Giddy and happy that their meeting went better than expected as the resident left the chief’s office, she hurried to gather her items in human resources. Bubbly by such the meeting, she hissed to herself with glee, “Yes!”

**...**

The young doctor’s day had been more eventful than she predicted for herself. She took her time to explore the enormous facilities of Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital. Renovations and remodelings with modern designing and furnishing were instituted into the hospital with better security systems due to a recent fiery explosion that had erupted months back in one of their labs. Besides being a Katherine Fox Hospital and employing award-winning surgeons, Grey-Sloan was a level-one trauma unit, serving many and most of their surgical cases from emergency traumas, which their reputation prided themselves with. It was a loud commotion passing by their trauma center, also known as The Pit, as many of the hospital workers code-named.

 

At least Anastasia was aware that she’d never be bored at Grey-Sloan, one of her fears was doing nothing—being nothing.

 

Leaving the hospital grounds, the brunette decided to explore the city; she had a couple errands to run she could do as she went sightseeing. Buy a bed, grab a bite, and buy some food for her vacant fridge. Packages of her other items—clothing, appliances, and other furniture—should be sent to her apartment sometime that week, so there wasn’t much to buy besides a mattress.

 

Checking the first box off Dr. Steele’s to-do list was easier than she expected. It was either her lucky day or life was getting easier for her, but naturally, she went with the former option between the two. The closest furniture store to her was located by a nearby mall, and she bought a bed to be sent to her apartment that same day. It was around noon at this point, and her stomach told her that lunch was needed.

 

Seattle’s city was extravagantly modernized and well-established compared to San Francisco’s lively and “well-loved” (for lack of a better word) buildings. Each building looked and felt new and polished like at Grey-Sloan’s hospital. Anastasia was in a new city, so she didn’t expect much from the new foreign civilization she began inhabiting. Spotting a local coffee shop, unofficially marking this place to herself as a new spot for a quick cup, she ordered herself a bagel with cream cheese and Twinnings English Breakfast Tea with the request to have the bag out the pot. She enjoyed her tea weak and black.

 

Once receiving her food and drink from the barista, she carried it over to an empty table for two, taking her seat as she dipped her tea quickly into the pot. She took a tentative sip to test the temperature of her beverage before she enjoyed her tea.

 

“Blueberry muffin and black coffee for…Grey!” The barista yelled out from behind the counter, grabbing Anastasia’s attention. She watched a well-dressed man in a navy suit briskly grab his sweet treat and cup of Joe before heading out the door, unable to catch a glimpse of his face and unreadable expression.

 

 _Hmm… It’s been a while since I’ve had one of those treats,_ The doctor quietly remembered, crossing her legs as she took another bite of her bagel.

 

Minutes after the brunette finished her little meal, she began holding her tea with both hands, taking generous sips and gulps as she was content with how her life was during that moment—a fresh start in life and a clean slate was what it had felt like: with a new place to explore, new people to meet, and a new exciting job she couldn’t wait to commit to.

 

Interrupting her blissful moment, a loud crash from outside the streets frightened her senses, causing her to choke and sputter her tea onto herself. Hearing yelps and screams, the commotion outside turned other customers’ heads to the direction of the noise. Quickly dabbing her clothes and mouth dry with her napkin, she cleaned herself before tossing it onto her empty plate. Walking to the glass window, the curious girl watched other passing pedestrians form a crowded group beside a smoking car. There was a black, sports Audi in the middle of the intersection, T-boned from a black Dodge truck.

 

As the realization of the accident dawned onto her, Anastasia gasped, urgently rushing out the door and running into the street of the accident after checking it was safe to make a quick bolt.

 

A man with a badly-styled, blond Mohawk exited his Dodge truck with both hands pressed against either side of his head. In astonishment, he whined “ _Shit,_ my car!”

 

 _Ugh. No._ Rolling her eyes, the doctor checked to see that the culprit that caused the motor vehicle incident was fine with no injuries. She examined him with her eyes, stating and asking with stern determination “I’m a doctor. What happened?” She leaned in closer to check for any hidden injuries. There were none.

 

He shuddered, widening his eyes even more as he viewed the damage of the black Audi sports car. “Shit…” he cursed in a drifted dark tone. Continuing with a stutter, he began trying to explain himself, “I-I…The light…I didn’t see… and then he…”

 

Anastasia’s eyes enlarged with responsibility and concern. Holding the strange man by the face, she declared with a more serious tone, “ _Hey._ I need you to call the 9-1-1, _right now. DO IT.”_ Expect the unexpected. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Fumbling into his ripped jeans with panic from the resident’s command, he grabbed his phone and began dialing the urgent call.

 

While the blond male was calling for paramedics and explaining the situation (as best as he could stutter), the doctor rushed over to the damaged black vehicle, carefully opening the door. It creaked open to reveal an unconscious man, slightly bleeding from the side of his forehead. His body was leaned forward against his steering wheel with arms dragged by his side.

 

For a man that was incapacitated, he was a looker. His face was sculpted and chiseled with a jawline that was accentuated by the cleaned and groomed stubble on his face. His mouth was open while unconscious, but the mystery man was breathtaking.

 

 _Now’s not the time to drool. Stop it, Steele._ The doctor’s mind subconsciously smacked herself of her thoughts. Speaking loudly and urgently enough while shaking his shoulder gently, “Sir, are you okay? Wake up. Can you hear me? Sir?”

 

Anastasia patted his cheek gently, trying to wake him as she checked his pulse. He was breathing and his pulse was steady, for now anyway. But he still remained still after a minute of trying to get him to wake. She whipped her head back to the culprit of the incident, yelling, “What they say?!”

 

The blond called out back at her, “They said they’ll be coming in fifteen minutes and to wait!”

 

 _Hurry…_ The doctor turned back to the gorgeously unconscious man, repeating herself, “Sir! Wake up! Can you hear me? My name is Dr. Steele. You’ve been in a car accident.”

 

The man made a low growl. As relief slowly etched into her more and more with every passing second, the resident saw his eyes squint more tightly while still being closed, and his lips twitched into a small curling scowl.

 

“Can you hear me, sir?” Anastasia repeated once more with a more softening tone, patting his face gently awake throughout.

 

Gray eyes opened and met with her hazel, fluttering open gradually as the doctor watched his dark lashes sway open to reveal his dark irises. She felt as though she could fall into darkness of his eyes, letting it envelope her entirely down that abyss.

 

“Hey,” she spoke carefully, “sir, you’ve been in an accident. My name is Dr. Anastasia Steele, are you alright?” She lifted her hand off his cheek and rested it on his arm.  


He flinched from the doctor’s caring touch, moving away from her and looking away. Speaking sternly with aggravation, “Don’t touch me; I’m fine. What happened?”

 

Hesitating from his cold response, Anastasia pressed on to examine him, “You were in a broadside collision. What is your name, sir?”

 

“Christian. Christian Grey,” the man spoke and repeated his name as if expecting a reaction out of the doctor.

 

“And how are you feeling, Mr. Grey? What do you remember?”

 

“The light turned green. When it was my turn to go, I made a right turn, and then the random _fucker_ came out of nowhere. That’s why my head is aching,” the gray-eyed man growled, exasperated and evidently irritated from talking. He narrowed his eyes as his head turned back to the young girl, eyeing with judgment, “You’re a doctor?”

 

“Yes, Mr. Grey. Now, if you’ll let me, may I examine you?” Anastasia replied calmly, trying to dissipate the reflecting annoyance the patient was sharing towards her.

 

He lifted his brow, before turning his body towards the doctor’s direction. With reluctance, the man decided to cooperate and said, “Just tell me what you’re going to do before you do it.”

 

She nodded, happy enough that she was complying, “I need to check your motor functions. Can you move your fingers and hand for me first? And then swings your legs before you rotate your feet.”

 

Following the young doctor’s directions, he aced his first examination. _No spinal cord damage. Motor functions are intact. Check for pupil restrictions._ Her thoughts urged. The brunette pulled out a pen, thankful that the writing utensil had a light on its cap (it was always a fifty-fifty chance in those situations), “I need to check your eyes now brain activity and function. Follow the light.”

 

Anastasia turned the light on and watched his gray eyes follow the glaring light. His pupils constricted and followed the movement of the light pen. She smiled at him as she commented, while he wondrously gazed into her eyes intensely, “Your brain seems to be just fine. If I may, I’ll need to check under your shirt for any underlying injuries if any.”

 

Her hands reached in for the buttons of his shirt, but promptly before her hands would went to that destination, he grasped both her prying hands into the clutches of his fingers. Her eyes widened and brows furrowed slightly with curiosity as he pushed her hands away in an immediate explanation, “I’ll undo them.”

 

 _Don’t touch me_ , his words echoed in her mind as she remembered his declaration.

 

He first loosened and pulled the tie over his head, before placing it in his coat pocket and taking off his outerwear. Button by button, Anastasia watched him undo his shirt before blushing and looking away, realizing she was gawking at him like an animal. Peripherally checking with her vision to see if he had finished, she turned back to his naked muscled body.

 

 _Jesus Christ, this is illegal._ Her thoughts and his naked presentation made her eyes roll quietly to herself. Christian was a gorgeous face on top of a gorgeous body to match with such a “gorgeous” personality—typical. He was the guy her mom and dad would disapprove of and tell her to avoid; well, if she had any parents.

 

He eyes narrowed as she examined Christian’s chest closely, asking before thinking about how personal her question was going to be, “Those scars—were they there before or after this incident, Mr. Grey?”

 

“Before,” his nose flared with his ice-cold answer.

 

Walking and moving in closer, his harsh warning came out instinctively with a matching dead-eye, cold stare, “ _Don’t.”_

Sighing in exasperation, Anastasia explained apologetically, “I know you don’t want me to touch you, Mr. Grey, I understand. But I need to check your abdomen. I would ask you to do it, but you don’t know what you’re checking for. Please, Mr. Grey. Let me help you.” Her voice spoke urgently with compassion and care.

 

Christian hesitated, looking away even more irritably. Peeking in the corner of his eye was a gaze of shame she caught. Wishing to respect his needs, she insisted convincingly, “It’ll just be for a second. I just need to check for tenderness and make sure all your other organs are okay, and I’ll be out of your skin.” She smiled weakly, hoping the pun would amuse him.

 

The corner of his lip twitched from the doctor’s joke, and Anastasia prided herself that even he was susceptible and able to be hindered from the humor of her quick wit. His gray eyes followed back into her golden irises, nodding once to allow her to do her job.

 

Inching in closer, Anastasia lifted up her hand, showing him what she was going to do. His eyes widened, remaining eye contact as his body tensed and froze. Watching him made her heart swell; he looked younger with such vulnerability. She placed her hand onto his stomach, hearing him let out a low growl before pushing gently to check. He was okay.

 

 _All clear, Christian_ , She smiled and stepped away.

 

Dr. Steele nodded before putting her hands behind her back, “You passed your examination, Mr. Grey. Your brain activity shows to be stable and responsive as well as your motor functions, showing no signs of spinal damage, which is good! However, I recommend that you will still need to go to the hospital when the paramedics arrive. I could only do so much without equipment, but I think you’ll be just fine.”

 

Adamant with seriousness again, he replied back, buttoning up his shirt, “No. I don’t have time for that. I need to get going.”

 

“I don’t think so, Mr. Grey. You need to go and get yourself checked,” Anastasia crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

 

Christian glared at her silently, and she lifted her eyebrow with amusement. _We are debating about you going to the hospital after you’ve just been in an accident. And you’re saying no? Don’t be a child,_ she scolded him to herself.

 

Exhaling out gently, she decided to go for an understanding tone of voice, “I get that you’re busy; everyone is nowadays—too busy to care for themselves just like yourself, but you need to get yourself checked. You have a little head laceration that needs to be patched up, which doesn’t look so serious if it makes you feel any better. You should consider yourself very lucky to even be conscious with a side-impact crash you just experienced. So, don’t push your luck.”

 

Stubbornness and childish behavior began coming in as he argued back in a disgruntled tone, “No, I’m _fine_ now. I feel _fine_.”

 

 _This man-child._ “Nope. You can never be too careful. You need a head CT scan to check what’s underneath that hard head of yours,” The doctor sighed; unamused that she was having an argument with a man acting and sounding like a child.

 

Entertained by the bantering, he smirked with insistence, “I’m _fine_. Plus, my mom’s a doctor.”

 

The young resident opened her mouth in shock, running her fingers through her hair as she combed her hair back with her fingers, “As if that were a good excuse for you to get out of getting checked out. She’s the all-the-more reason to go to the hospital! Your mother would probably advocate for that CT scan, then!” _Unbelievable._

Christian’s smirk disappeared as he contemplated what she had said from his backfired excuse. With the ambulance coming in right on time, he stood up crossing his arms, “Looks like you might be getting what you want, Dr. Steele.”

 

The lights of the ambulance began flashing on as the paramedics exited their vehicle, heading over to cater to the blond man first. Anastasia’s head turned from the arrival of the emergency team, and then back at Christian, as she replied back to his comment, “The funny thing is that you should want to get helped and checked out. And even if you really wanted to run off and make an escape, where would you go? You don’t have a functioning car, or one that is viable enough for _safe_ transportation, currently, Mr. Grey.”

 

“Fair point, _Anastasia Steele_ ,” He smiled, enunciating and feeling the name roll off his tongue for the first time with emphasized articulation.

 

Disarmed from the sound of her name coming off his lips, she blushed shyly, looking away and clearing her throat, “Okay, well… this is where I go.”

 

Christian leaned in towards her, frowning, “Go?”

 

The paramedics walked towards the doctor, and she smiled at them, “He’s all yours.”

 

“Where are you going?” He inquired, moving his head around and away from the blocking heads of the EMTs. He was trying to take the young doctor back into his sights before she left, while avoiding to answer all the questions he was already asked.

 

Anastasia giggled, yelling back to him with an ironic answer as distance grew between each of her passing step, “I have a life to live, Mr. Grey! Believe it or not, people can be really busy nowadays.” She teased him, turning around to smile at a grinning man, “Get that CT!”

 

The victim of his crashed Audi was irritably lost in a sea of EMTs as they badgered him with their repeating questions, fending himself from the help of prying hands as he memorized the echoing giggles and last words of Dr. Anastasia Steele—memorizing the sound of his name coming off her lips—, which repeated his ears and head over and over, “See you around, Christian.”

 

After that, the mysteriously sexy man of Christian Grey was out of her sights.

 

 _Now, where was I?_ The young doctor thought to herself, smiling at the current events of what happened earlier. She was optimistic of her future and the events coming after to follow with her. That day was a sign for the young doctor, in which showed that there wouldn’t be a dull day for her with her time in Seattle.

 

_Groceries._

**...**

_Three days later … Thursday, May 02, 2018_

“Go home, Steele.”

 

Anastasia jumped from her seat from the same booming voice she recognized the day she landed in Seattle to meet her. Leaning away from the nearby gurney and opening her eyes, she sat up straight, fumbling to pick up her phone to check the time.

 

“It’s 5:45 p.m. Go home. Ya look nasty,” Dr. Bailey commented, making a face before walking down the hall.

 

The young resident followed her boss through the hallway leading to The Pit—traumas upon traumas in this emergency unit kept flooding in at this time of hour. Briskly following the short doctor, she explained, “Chief, I don’t leave for another fifteen minutes.” She was trying to recover from the embarrassment of her boss catching her sleeping.

 

“I can’t have sleeping surgeons in my hospital who are supposed to be working. You making me sad just looking at you,” Dr. Bailey responded as a nurse handed her a clipboard. “How long since you’ve been here, Steele?” She asked with an occupied eye on some charts.

 

“5 a.m.,” The brunette answered, turning away from her boss as she yawned quietly.

 

“Of which _day_?” The chief’s voice hummed, making eye-contact with the young doctor as she looked up at her speculatively from her clipboard.

 

Anastasia cleared her throat, stumbling through her confession, “Uh… Y-Yesterday…”

 

“ _Mhm_ ,” Dr. Bailey gaze followed up and down disapprovingly with a matching tone of disapproval. She continued, “That’s the thing with you surgical ducklings. You, interns, always know when to go in and swim but never know when to stop before you drown. You should look at yourself. You look awful.”

 

Abruptly stopping in her place, she suddenly felt self-conscious, trying to fix her appearance any way she can as she stared at her reflection on a metal surgical tray. Bailey called out again, “ _Go home, Steele_. I won’t say it again.” She began following the protocol of examining the next patient in the trauma center before continuing to speak to the young resident, “Work will still be here the when you come back, so enjoy your night. Not many of us get that privilege, currently, so take advantage of it. Take it from me; _your boss_ , telling _you_ to go home. _Rest.”_ She was insistent and assertive as she pointed out every spoken word.

 

“Yes, Dr. Bailey,” Anastasia sighed, giving in, “Thank you.”

 

The chief waved her off before putting on her stethoscope to check the patient’s heartrate, “See you tomorrow.”

 

Taking off her light blue scrubs, she began changing out into her street clothes, slipping on her trusty black jeans and an oversized knitted coat on top of her white tank top. She kicked off her sneakers and replaced them with thigh-high boots, the only boots she had that were outrageously and ostentatiously bolder than her contrastingly meek personality; nevertheless, she enjoyed how they great they accentuated her legs. She pulled the hair band out of the pony and placed it around her wrist, setting free her dark locks before combing her hair with her fingers.

 

Throwing her light blue scrubs into the waste basket near the door, she tried leaving the residents’ lounge before bumping into another resident. Caught by surprise, she exclaimed, “Oh! I’m sorry about that, I didn’t see you there!”

 

The male resident chuckled warmly, “No, it’s okay.”

 

Moving past him and only making it a few steps out the door, Anastasia was stopped again by the resident’s calling voice, “You’re the new girl, right? I haven’t seen you around before.” He peeked his head through the door as one arm hugged on side.

 

Stopping in place and making a 180 degree turn, the young resident smiled and shrugged, “I guess that would be me. Anastasia Steele.” She offered her hand to him.

 

“Andrew Deluca,” he greeted politely with a grin, firmly shaking her hand. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the child prodigy.”

 

Amused and embarrassed, she asked with a curiously nervous laugh, “Is that what people are saying about me around here?”

 

“That. Or a child genius. Or both,” Andrew grinned more widely, but she was unsure if he was teasing or joking. _Or both._

“I’d hate to break it to you, but you may have some misguided information,” Anastasia humbly dismissed.

 

Dr. Deluca shrugged, “You’re too hard on yourself. Don’t worry about it. You’re working with other surgical geniuses and brilliant surgeons. You’ll fit right in.” He winked, but frowned momentarily after, “I would’ve introduced myself to you earlier this week, but you were gone half the time. I would’ve found a chance to say ‘hi’ or introduce myself if I could.”

 

“It’s not your fault. Bailey has had me under her wing all week to show me around and help me adjust to my new surroundings. You’ll see me more, eventually,” The young resident smiled. She joked as she corrected herself with a chuckle, “Unfortunately, maybe.”

 

Andrew rolled his eyes, holding onto his big smile as he spoke in a singsong tone, “It was nice meeting you, Dr. Steele.”

 

“It was nice meeting you, as well, Dr. Deluca,” Anastasia laughed with a wave good-bye, heading to the elevators.

 

As the elevator doors opened, a familiar face had shown as the sliding doors revealed its occupant, “Dr. Steele,” the man greeted politely, “how nice to see you. You going down?”

 

“Dr. Webber!” the young resident exclaimed. Richard Webber, the first person of color doctor to be accepted into Grey-Sloan Memorial’s residency program and the first African-American chief-of-surgery before Dr. Bailey, was the current director of the residency program. All applicants go to this man, and he is the man that shaped the future of Seattle’s successful, innovative surgeons currently. He molded the brilliant surgeons today, including Bailey. Anastasia got accepted because he said “yes” to her application; much of her journey from then on would be because of what he saw in her, mostly from the help of  Dr. Hawn, of course.

 

Stepping into the elevator and standing beside him, she nodded, “Yes, sir. I’m going to the lobby floor, too.”

 

“Ah, perfect. We can share this together,” he mused. He looked down at her, inquiring, “How’s your stay been at Seattle? Not too cold for you, I hope?”

 

“More eventful than you know. And not at all, I live for the cold weather.”

 

“That’s good to hear. Maybe it’s because I’m an old man, but I can’t bear the cold like I used to in this body,” he stated with slight melancholy. The young resident merely nodded in agreement with a humming, shy smile, unsure of how to respond to her director.

 

With the elevator doors dinging open, the two surgeons stepped out of its doors and headed to the front of the hospital’s entrance together. With an amused tone, his voice rang into her ears again suddenly, “Is that Christian Grey?”

 

Anastasia stopped in her steps from the sound of the familiar name, watching Dr. Webber with her. “It _is_ him,” he said with marveling verification, “I wonder what a guy like is doing in a place like this? It’s amazing whom you would run into these days, huh, Dr. Steele?”

 

Christian Grey was in her sights again, dressed in a white shirt and jeans from across the entrance doors of the hospital. His hair was tousled in a messy way, but not as disorganized as she remembered from the car accident. His beautifully sculpted face was still intact and remained the same from what she remembered. There was no more blood, and his cut looked like it was patched up and healing more quickly than she expected it to be.

 

A hypnotizing set of stern gray eyes ultimately found her tranced golden gaze, paralyzing her from the neck down as she was in shock. As his eyes met hers, his lips curled into a small smile, carefully approaching the two doctors as Anastasia watched him tread with every step, hands placed in the pockets of his jacket. There was an intense look in his eyes, like a wolf stalking his prey—his lamb.

 

 _How was he here again? Strange coincidence, maybe?_ For some particular reason, the young resident wasn’t complaining about the unexpected circumstance; though, in the back of her head, she was wondering if she was supposed to.

 

Noticing Dr. Webber’s eyes on her, Anastasia snapped out of her daze and turned to her director. She nodded, repeating his comment with concurrence, “Yeah, it’s amazing whom you run into…” The young doctor stared into his dark eyes and questioned, “Just out of curiosity, do you know him, Dr. Webber? Have you met with him before?”

 

“No, but I read about him! In Forbes!” Dr. Webber exclaimed.

 

“Forbes? The magazine?” Her eyes widened.

 

“Oh, _yeah._ You never heard of him, Anastasia? He’s one of the top ten wealthiest men in the world. His company is worth millions! Billions, I wouldn’t doubt,” he muttered with amazement as Mr. Grey came closer with each step he took.

 

 _What? This guy coming this way? Since when? Where was I? Wait, where am I right now?_ Anastasia began to panic and become nervous, and her body urged her to turn and speed away, but her body stayed frozen as her eyes locked into his drawing gaze.

 

“Miss Steele,” Christian’s voice was soothing in the alluringly smooth tone he used, “it’s a slightly pleasure to see you, again.”

 

In an accusatory tone, slightly offended for being prodded a question when the director should have asked first, Dr. Webber asked in a low mutter, “You know him, Steele?”

 

She whispered, contritely, “In a way of sorts…”

 

“It’s a funny thing how life works; I was just reading about you the other day in a magazine, Mr. Grey,” her superior started, lending out his hand, “My name is Dr. Richard Webber, I am the surgical residency director here at this hospital. Is there something we can help you with?”

 

Courteously, the billionaire took her boss’s hand into his, “I am glad I ran into Miss Steele here, and I thought maybe she could assist me, privately.”

 

Richard exchanged glances from the wealthy man to the young resident in question, causing Christian to explain himself, “You see, Dr. Webber, I was in an accident a couple days before today, and if it weren’t for Anastasia, I don’t know what would have happened to me.”

 

Dr. Webber’s eyes widened, grinning as he patted her shoulder, “Well, I guess Grey-Sloan made the smart decision on hiring, Dr. Steele. Or _I_ did.”

 

Finding the courage to speak, Anastasia commented defensively at his slightly flattering and exaggerated statement, “I shouldn’t take all the credit. When I came out and saw the accident had already happened, I checked on Mr. Grey, later on only to find him unconscious. When I woke him, he was breathing and his vitals were fortunately in good shape, besides suffering a small head lac.”

 

“Oh, nonsense. You’re being too modest, Dr. Steele; take pride in what you accomplished!” Dr. Webber exclaimed. He continued with a prideful grin, “You know, _I_ was the one that decided Anastasia to join our surgical residency program. She showed great promise and dedication from all the hard work, so it’s safe to say we are incredibly proud and happy to have her.” It was strange for Anastasia to experience being in that predicament; barely knowing her director, he was already boasting about her like he would with his children.

 

Anastasia smiled timidly, wary of Christian’s reaction about this conversation, but he only grinned politely with her boss, “I never got to thank you, Miss Steele. You have my gratitude.”

 

Richard nodded, beginning to make his way to the entrance, “Well, I better get going, or my wife will never let me hear the end of it. Of course, she’s a surgeon as well, so I’m sure I will manage.” He joked with a chuckle before lifting his hand to bid farewell, “Have a good evening, you two. And it was nice meeting you, Mr. Grey.”

 

“Likewise,” Christian stated curtly, waving good-bye with the young doctor beside him. Turning to her, alone by her side, he smiled to himself looking down at her, “Where were we?”

 

Anastasia chewed on her lip, pondering on moments that have passed before returning his gaze in recollection, “You needed my help?”

 

“Yes,” He nodded, continuing, “I got myself checked-in like you suggested, and got my head scanned, but the waiting was far too long for me to sit around and do nothing. There were just way too many people in line waiting for scans, so I had to leave abruptly with other engagements to attend to.” He sighed with impatience, recalling his memory, before staring at Anastasia again, “I was hoping you could guide me to where to find them and check my scans.”

 

Blinking at him in perplexity, she lifted her brow in thought before she asked, “You said your mother was a doctor. Why didn’t you just have the hospital send her your scans, Mr. Grey? Even if there was a long wait, CT scans don’t take that long to process.”

 

He stood there silently, disarmed by Anastasia’s habit of having an answer or question to everything. Logic was always going to be on her side, and he was beginning to see that as well. He smirked, replying pleasantly as he was preoccupied in his thoughts, “I do recall you saying that people can be really busy nowadays, am I wrong? As for my mother, I didn’t want her to worry for me. You said so yourself, I was lucky to be okay.”

 

With no hidden agenda or ulterior motive of hoping Christian would come to see her, she frowned at her optimistic self, scolding her silently and  answering, “I was just getting off work, but I’m sure I could do you one more favor—being my first patient since I’ve been here, after all. We can pick up your CT scans on the third floor. I’ll take you.”

 

“After you, Miss Steele,” he teased with a smile. The two of them headed into the elevators after pushing the call button, once everyone exited through the doors.

 

Filling the empty space, Anastasia pressed the button to the third floor, waiting patiently.

 

After a few moments, a rippling wave of tension made Anastasia realize something felt off. It was strange for her, and curious to see what was in her first patient’s mind, she gazed up at him. She bit her lip, drawn to his desirably eye-candy features. He stared down watching her intently before closing his eyes and inhaling slowly. Looking away immediately, she blushed. Crossing one leg over the other and folding her arms together—feeling her breasts bulge from the tight pressure she was hugging herself with—she felt a heated rush over her body in a confused state of nervousness and intensity. For a big empty elevator with simply two bodies, one possibly more heated than the other, the void of the empty room was filled with something else besides the man and the resident.

 

Desire?

 

 _Stop._ Anastasia told herself.

 

The young doctor was wondering why the elevator felt smaller. Why did it feel hotter? And somehow she realized that the distance between their two bodies was inching closer.

 

 _No._ She resisted and admonished herself. _When is this elevator ride going to end?_

 

The sounds of their respiratory filled her ears. Paying attention only to the way he breathed, she started thinking about his lips--imagining the shape, the way they moved, the feel for them (against and on her), the taste.

 

 _Yes._ Her thoughts moaned. As her body warmed to her provocative thoughts, her stomach reacted to those thoughts. Anastasia turned body in his direction, watching his body do the same. She looked up at him to open to say something, and he watched with an open mouth.

 

 _DING!_ The elevator doors rang. Beaming up at him, radiating her aura and glow, she locked herself into the gray of his eyes as he looked down at her golden-brown. Raising a finger, she pointed out in a murmur, “We’re here.”

 

Somehow both aroused and enchanted, Christian muttered under his breath, following the scent of her hair as her hair swayed out of the room, “What is it about elevators?”

 

Anastasia smiled to herself, and Christian smirked, witnessing her enjoyment spread across her face with curling lips. Lips he wanted, and lips she wanted to give away.

 

Coming up to the counter, she spoke briefly, showing her hospital badge, “Dr. Steele, here to pick up the head CT scans for Mr. Christian Grey, please.”

 

“One moment, doctor,” the man said, fetching the scans.

 

Seconds passed and Christian mused, “I didn’t believe you when you said you were a doctor back at the accident that day. I just thought you were being nice.”

 

“I endeavor to be and am glad I came off that way. Looks can be deceiving, Mr. Grey.”

 

“You can say that again, Miss Steele,” His mood and tone went for a turn before he drifted back to his normal, formal self, “By the way, would you prefer if I called you doctor or miss, Anastasia?”

 

 _Usually, doctor, considering how hard I earned that title but…_ The young resident thought honestly before flirtatiously and audaciously speaking slowly with a creeping secretive smile, “Whatever you want, Mr. Grey.”

 

He gasped, eyes darkening from her little comment, “Be careful now, Miss Steele.”

 

But as the man came back with the manila envelope to Anastasia, she repressed the memory of his words and reaction, turning off her fun switch and turning back on her work mode. Carefully opening the envelope, she skimmed her eyes cautiously at the scans for any irregularities. There were none, so she declared, “You’re good to go, Mr. Grey. I’d be surprised if the scans showed otherwise with your condition like this.” She handed the file back to man behind the counter, sending her gratitude with a silent smile as he hurried with it back into hospital records and files.

 

“That’s good to hear. It’s a good thing you were there when I needed you,” Christian smiled graciously, charming her attention back into his alluring aura. With his hands in his pockets, he dipped his head down, slowly leaning forward to match her head level, “Are you free this evening, Miss Steele? I thought maybe you and I could grab dinner.”

 

The doctor smiled, “Like a date?”

 

His mouth twisted to her idea, disregarding her idea with a better self-accommodating excuse, “I was thinking more so…celebrating my health or thanking you for your help with dinner.”

 

 _Not a date, but a “thank you” dinner? No, thanks._ Rolling her eyes at the idea, Anastasia frowned before softening her expression to keep up with polite appearances and hide her disappointment with a smirk, “That’s kind of you, Mr. Grey. Even though I am glad you are in superb condition, I was just doing my job, so I’ll have to decline. Nevertheless, thank you for your generous offer.”

 

“But…” Christian opened his mouth, shocked from the rejection. This hasn’t happened to him before.

 

Swiftly turning, Anastasia made her way back to the elevator doors.

 

Unable and unsure of what to do next, he grasped his hand into hers, gently tugging her arm, “Please, Anastasia.” Caught off guard from his action, the brunette stopped in her tracks, turning to a slightly grimaced man with an impassively intense stare. He stated, “I insist.”

 

A glimmer in his gray eyes reflected into her hazel eyes, and Anastasia found herself lost in them as he was disarmingly lost in hers. She sighed and shrugged, “Okay, sure. Thank you.” But the one warming feeling she couldn’t shake was his hand amongst her cold delicate fingers, the action that persuaded her to follow him.

 

Upset by her cold hands, he squeezed his hand into hers tightly, leading her into the elevator to head out the hospital.

 

 _Finally_ , her unspoken thoughts breathed, taking in the cool air of the restricting hospital after exiting its doors. For the first time, Anastasia wanted to leave the facility, and she blamed Christian for that provoked feeling, considering this had never happened until he showed up. Striding to the parking lot as she followed his pull, she asked him, “Where to for dinner?”

 

“Actually, I was rethinking about bringing you back to my place to have dinner, if that would be alright with you?” Christian asked with a wary look.

 

The brunette nodded her head, uncertain about the situation. But with a straightforward answer, she let herself trust him, “Okay.”

 

Walking together, hand-in-hand into the parking lot, Anastasia spotted the same black Audi without a dent, scratch, or evidence of damage like it had on the day of the accident. She observed it, catching a glance at Christian’s face, “You fixed your car.”

 

“I did,” he responded. He smirked down at her. He mocked her, repeating what he remembered the doctor telling him that day, “How else am I supposed to run away or escape any situation without a safe and viable source of transportation?”

 

Anastasia giggled, releasing a feeling of content with him, “Of course. What was I thinking?” 

 

“And what are you thinking about right now, Miss Steele?” He asked, opening the car door on its passenger side for her.

 

Sheepish to reveal her truthful thoughts, she came up with a quick lie, “Nice car.”

 

“It is,” he grinned, shutting her door.

 

Coming back around the driver’s side, Christian entered his car, turned on the car’s ignition, and drove out the parking lot, heading to his place. The car drove smoothly and speedily, but not so fast that would have the doctor concerned for her health.

 

“Would you like some music?” He asked momentarily, breaking a lull of silence.

 

 _I’d like to poke at your brain,_ she thought. “Sure,” she answered.

 

The driver pressed a button and classical music began to play out the speakers of his car.

 

“Where do you live?” Anastasia wondered. The music playing in the car helped lift the tension and weight off her shoulders, making it easier for her to speak more comfortably and bravely.

 

“It’s my penthouse apartment at the Escala Tower. It’s where I live most of the time unless I am traveling.”

 

 _Right. The mysterious mogul is a billionaire that I just found about,_ she mused to herself. “Does your job force you to do a lot of traveling?” The doctor asked, wanting to learn more about him.

 

“Not all the time, but it is part of the job.”

 

“And your job is?”

 

He muttered bitterly, “I’m the CEO of my company—Grey Holdings Enterprises.”

 

“I knew that, Mr. Grey,” she sighed. _A couple minutes ago, at least._ She continued, “What does your job entail? What does your company do?”

 

“My company specializes in telecommunications technologies, sustainable energies, and intelligent systems developments. We also do mergers and acquisitions, helping underperforming businesses and companies by whipping them into shape,” Christian smirked, amused by his own joke.

 

Taking in the information, she sharply exhaled, “That sounds like a lot of work. Who do you answer to?”

 

“I don’t answer to anybody,” he snapped, “I told you. I own my company.”

 

“Right. I’m sorry; I’m just not familiar with the business world, or your line of work for that matter,” Anastasia muttered with an apology.

 

Entering an underground garage, he parked his car into its spot along a row of other costly, luxury cars, abruptly answering, “We’re here.”

 

The doctor was out of place, and she felt like she didn’t belong, doubting if she made the right judgment to be entering a stranger’s home. Opening the car for herself, unaware that Christian was coming to open door for her, the brunette closed the car door, seeing and hesitating at an open hand waiting for hers.

 

Staring up into his eyes, he offered a small smile, giving her the reluctant reassurance to take his warm hand into her cold grasp. Following him, he led her away from the parking garage, revealing another elevator lit in its place.

 

 _Again?_ Expectant and somehow aware of the situation, the two hand-holding acquaintances walked in together. Letting go of the mogul’s hand, she walked into a corner and leaned her head back against the wall, staring at him.

 

Making a face and lifting his brow, Christian smirked, pushing in a code before being closely at her side. His intimidatingly powerful presence forced her to cower, causing her to purposely stand up straight from the elevator wall and purposely look anywhere but into his gaze, avoiding eye-contact. Much to her dismay, Anastasia could still feel the pulling tension he attracted towards him.

 

He smiled amusingly, watching the brunette’s head rotate back and forth as she stared at the elevator’s walls and ceilings. Christian lifted his hand, reaching into Anastasia’s face and holding her cheek. She could feel the heat of his hand spread warmly on her face, sending shivers down her spine.

 

He murmured, “Almost there.” His body turned to her side, and she felt her body push into the corner of the elevator.

 

Escala’s elevator was slightly bigger than the hospital’s, and yet she could still feel herself wilting from his nearby stance. Her head bent back against the walls of the elevator, feeling his breath tickle her lip. He spoke again, this time in a whisper, “I won’t touch you. Not until I have your consent, Miss Steele.”

 

 _You_ are _touching me. You already have my consent._

 

Saved by the bell of the transporting machine, the tension and air of the room was escaping as its doors opened, but Christian remained at her side, staring into her golden irises. He pondered their beauty as he felt himself melt, watching her pupils enlarge—a gratifying sight that invoked a sharp gasp.

 

“Let’s go,” Christian muttered, stroking Anastasia’s cheek with his thumb. He slowly snaked his hand down her arm and grasped her fingers into his, leading her out of the sex trap.

 

The doctor gasped to herself, taking in the sights of his penthouse apartment. It was big; and even describing the size of its space that way wouldn’t have sufficed. Marbled, polished, and stylishly-modern like Christian’s mysterious persona, his place was a well-presented representation of how he appeared to others with an enormous glass wall that showcased the city lights and evening setting of Seattle. Behind the glassed window was a large black piano and an accompanying large U-shaped sofa. Modern paintings were displayed from across the place, and a single vase of white lilies were placed on top of a black, glass coffee table. A curling staircase led to the upstairs, leaving the marveling young doctor what was up there.

 

Making a turn into the grand entrance of his apartment, Christian led Anastasia’s hand into the kitchen with a blond woman cooking at the kitchen stove.

 

The blond-haired woman turned around, surprised by the company and smiled kindly at the two, greeting the man first, “Good evening, Mr. Grey.”

 

“Good evening, Gail. Miss Steele this is Mrs. Jones; she works for me as my housekeeper and chef. It’s why it smells good in here and why the place always looks nice,” he complimented kindly with a polite smile. Turning to his blond employee, he introduced his accompanying woman, “Mrs. Jones, this is Dr. Anastasia Steele.”

 

Stunned, the young doctor pulled her hair behind her ear, lending out her hand to the housekeeper, “Calling me Ana is just fine; it’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Jones.”

 

Gently grasping her hand, Mrs. Jones smiled, “It’s nice to meet you, Ana.” Her eyes went on Christian with her continuing warm smile, “I just finished preparing the food. Would you like me to start dinner?”

 

“Please, Gail. And would you prepare a meal for Miss Steele as well?” Christian asked, taking off his coat while loosening his tie and unbuttoning one button.

 

“Yes, Mr. Grey,” Mrs. Jones obediently answered, already placing the dinnerware on another mat beside an accompanying set of utensils and a plate.

 

Anastasia blankly stared, as Christian strolled to his wine rack while Mrs. Jones got busy with her domesticated duties. Life looked ordinary and simple for someone as extraordinary ambiguous as Christian.

 

“Can I offer you a drink, Miss Steele?” He lifted both glossy wine glasses in one hand, making a _clink_ sound, while the other hand was occupied and holding a bottle.

 

“Oh,” She blurted from her distraction, shaking her head and erasing her thoughts away like an Etch-A-Sketch. _I don’t really drink, but…_ “Please.” It might help with her nerves, “Call me, Ana. After an intimate moment of saving your life, I think it is appropriate for you to be on first name bases with me.”

 

Christian smiled, setting down the glasses before pouring the red wine into his glasses. She observed the red liquid rush into the glass, being handed the glasses moments after.

 

Knowing nothing about wine, the doctor was given the pretentious impulse to smell it. _It smelled like wine._ Answering the girl’s question, he responded, “Cabernet Sauvignon, Chateau Lafite. It’ll go great with the meat Mrs. Jones would be cooking for us.”

 

Anastasia raised her glass, politely cheering with a smile, “To your life and your good health, may it stay that way for longer than we hope.”

 

Christian chuckled, pausing a second to think and responding, “To your move to Seattle.”

 

Both taking a sip, she nodded at the drink, _Yup, that’s wine._ Anastasia didn’t want to appear or seem inconsiderate, uncultured, or bland; however, little things like this didn’t give her much interest. To her, a wine in a bottle was the same as wine from a bag or a box, but out of respect, she would never mention that.

 

“Why did you change your mind?” The doctor began to converse.

 

“I don’t understand what you mean, Anastasia,” He responded, expressing a perturbed expression.

 

“Having dinner here instead of going somewhere.” The brunette felt bad for springing herself into Mrs. Jones’s plans. Apprehending how ungrateful she was appearing to come off, the young doctor quickly countered with a confessional explanation, “Not that I don’t appreciate this invitation. Your place is lovely.”

 

Christian nodded with a smile, “I figured you might’ve wanted a home-cooked meal after a long day at work, and I remembered Mrs. Jones had already started cooking.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Grey,” She sighed happily from his hospitable offer.

 

“How long have you been here in Seattle? If I recall from your boss, he said you had just been joined his program.”

 

Anastasia placed her glass down, smiling at the coincidence, “The day I met you, Christian, was the day I landed, honestly. The day of the accident was the day I settled in, and I am still settling in as my items come in one by one.”

 

“I see. How long do you plan on staying? Until the program ends?” He began his interrogation, getting to know her as he took his seat beside her.

 

Sitting up more straightly in her seat, her honey-brown eyes met with his, warming to the conversation, “I don’t have a definite answer. I might find work somewhere else, or I might apply for an attending job at Grey-Sloan if they’ll have me. I’d have to see and apply to other places as well, hopefully they’d have me; or even better, maybe they’d recruit me.”

 

His eyes showed no emotion she could pick up, and she was unable to read his impassive gaze. Earnestly, he offered in a serious tone, “You could always work for me.”

 

Anastasia shook her head with a widened eye, “No, I couldn’t.”

 

Furrowing his brows, he challenged, “Why not?”

 

Unable to come up with an answer, she chuckled as she joked, “You wouldn’t be able to afford me.”

 

He shook his head unamused, “Everyone has a price. What’s yours?”

 

With her mouth opened, the doctor frowned. She picked up her glass and took another nervous sip, “I don’t have one. I was kidding, Mr. Grey. You’re lucky that I don’t care about those things.”

 

“Then, why not work for me?” Christian didn’t understand the difficult situation he was creating, or he couldn’t see it.

 

Anastasia chuckled in disbelief, “You want me to be your personal physician and caretaker? I wouldn’t even know what to do at your company if not tending to patients as I would in a hospital.”

 

He shrugged and smirked, taking another careful sip at his wine. She watched his lips purse against the glass, the condensation from his breath lightly fogging up the rim, “I’m sure I can figure something out. There’s always something I can find you to do.”

 

Blushing at his comment, the doctor sipped again, getting used to the taste, “We’ll see…” Avoiding his gaze, she began looking at his glass, as his neatly manicured hands carefully stroking the stem.

 

Just in time, Mrs. Jones comes in with tongs and her iron skillet, placing two steaks onto their plates. Buttered broccoli topped with parmesan cheese followed after, and a hearty scoop of garlic mashed potatoes was placed on the side. Anastasia’s mouth watered from the fragrance of all the foods, biting her thumb.

 

“I hope you both like it. Enjoy,” The female chef responded.

 

As the two verbalized their appreciation, they began to eat. Immediately, Anastasia groaned to the food, humming with gluttonous satisfaction. Christian grinned, imitating her sounds of delight.

 

“I want to learn more about, Anastasia,” He responded, cutting his steak with his knife and biting it off his fork, “Tell me about yourself.”

 

The doctor covered her mouth, chewing and speaking, “What is there to tell?”

 

“Well, to start, tell me about your family.”

 

 _That’s not a happy conversation starter,_ “You tell me about yours,” Anastasia said, deflecting his question back at him.

 

Christian scowled, “I asked you first.”

 

“And I asked you second,” The doctor shrugged and smiled, biting into another piece of broccoli. It’s been a while since she had a nice, hot meal, especially after a shift longer than twenty-four hours, he was absolutely right.

 

Slumping back against his seat in quiet frustration, he commented with narrowing eyes, “You’re very taciturn.”

 

Silence crept into their dinner as Anastasia picked and nibbled her potatoes, debating on telling him. Before she could rethink her decision, her lips began to purse in movement as her voice came out, “I don’t have a family.”

 

Out of respect, he sat back up, leaning in to listen.

 

Taking a final bite of her potatoes, the doctor grabbed the glass by the bowl, appreciating her last sip of wine before she told her small tale, “Originally there were three of us—my mom, my dad, and me in New York, just a small village in the mountains of Lake Placid.” Anastasia smiled, nostalgically memorializing the small moments with her family, “But my dad passed away when I was a baby due to a stroke. Shortly a couple years later, my mom met Ray—my stepdad. We were happy for a couple years, but when I was seven—on our way to a fishing trip to Pulaski—we got into a car accident.”

 

Christian opened his mouth to say something, but he was speechless. He didn’t want to pity her, but he didn’t want to say anything offensive either, ashamed of his probing.

 

“Ironic, huh? A car accident…” Anastasia scoffed with a weak smile. Leaning her elbow on the table, she grabbed her fork and began watching it twirl between her fingers, “They died upon the impact. After that, it was just me.”

 

“I’m so sorry,” he grimaced, folding his hands together as he stared down at them.

 

The doctor shook her head, placing the fork back on the plate, “It happened a long time ago.”

 

Trying to lighten the mood, her golden eyes radiated with warmth as she changed the topic, smiling, “Did you know that the Pulsaki River is known for their salmon?” She didn’t want him to be unhappy.

 

Peering up, his curious eyes met her gaze, “Really?”

 

Anastasia nodded her head, grinning at her trivial fact, “You can find Atlantic salmon there mostly, but Coho salmon and King salmon can only be caught during September and October; that’s if you were lucky.”

 

Smiling, he admitted, “I didn’t know that. Do you enjoy fishing?”

 

“Oh, god, no!” The brunette roared a laugh, listening to the soundwaves of her giggles ripple in the empty space of his apartment, “I can’t stand it. Sitting and waiting is not something I’m good at. My mind is always thinking and buzzing with thoughts. When you fish, you need the discipline and the patience to keep still and silent, and I can’t do either at the same time.”

 

“Is that so?” He mused, smirking to himself with his quiet thoughts.

 

He asked warily with an impassive gaze, “Do you have a boyfriend?”

 

“Not that I know of,” Anastasia wittily responded. She joked in a playful smile, “Do _you_ have a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? I don’t judge.”

 

Scowling at her with narrowing eyes ablaze, “I don’t do the relationship thing, nor do I swing that way.”

 

_Not the relationship type? Why?_

 

Remembering that she knew nothing of the man in front of her and wanting to find out, she decided it was her turn to poke and prod, “Your turn. Tell me about you and your family. What do they do?”

 

He sighed, crossing his arms, “Well, you know my mom is a doctor—a pediatrician, specifically. My dad is a lawyer. They live here in Seattle.”

 

 _That’s nice. But I want to know more about_ you _, Mr. Grey._ “So, you decided to start a company, and it’s done so well, clearly,” Anastasia commented, gesturing towards everything around her. So, she went and asked her question, “How did you do it?”

 

“How did I do it?” He asked, trying to understand his question.

 

The doctor nodded her head, clarifying with an explanation to her question, “What made you and your company so successful?” He smirked, but his dissatisfaction was shown through the unamused glimmer in his eyes.

 

“Business is all about people, Miss Steele, and I’m very good at judging people. I know how they tick, what makes them flourish, what doesn’t, what inspires them, and how to incentivize them. I employ an exceptional team, and I reward them well. My belief is to achieve success in any scheme one has to make oneself master of that scheme, know it inside and out, know every detail. I work hard, very hard to do that. I make decisions based on logic an facts. I have a natural gut instinct that can spot and nurture a good solid idea and good people. The bottom line is it’s always down to good people,” Christian huffed truthfully, a circling expression of disinterest.

 

 _Arrogance._ Her conscience whispered in her head. _Well, maybe you were just…_ “Lucky. Did you consider yourself to just be fortuitous?”

 

His gray stern eyes flared with challenge, “I don’t subscribe to luck or chance, Miss Steele. The harder I work the more luck I seem to have. It really is all about having the right people on your team and directing their energies accordingly. I think it was Harvey Firestone who said ‘growth and development of people is the highest calling of leadership.’”

 

Unable to control her observational truth, the girl frowned in disgust, “You sound like a control freak.”

 

Christian scoffed and smiled, but the kindness wasn’t reflected in his eyes, “Oh, I exercise control in all things, Miss Steele.” Anastasia ran her tongue across her teeth, inhaling sharply. This did not prevent him from commenting, “Besides, immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control things.”

 

 _At least this prick is honest, but why am I drawn to him? Let alone like him._ “Power…” the doctor pondered on the word, “Do you feel as though you have it—immense power as you just said?”

 

Proving his point with a statistical example, he answered her, “I employ over forty thousand people, and that gives me a certain sense of responsibility—power if you will.” _I didn’t say that, you did._ “If I were to decide I was no longer interested in telecommunications business and sell up, twenty thousand people would struggle to make their mortgage payments after a month or so.”

 

Needing a second to look away, Anastasia scratched her head, trying to process his biased views of success. Returning her gaze back towards him, she rubbed her lips gently with her fingers before closing them into a fist to press against her mouth. Changing the topic once again with rolling eyes, she asked him, “What about your free time? What do you enjoy?”

 

Wicked in his thoughts, a devious smile curled to his lips, “I have varied interests, Miss Steele, very varied.”

 

With a steady gaze, he exhaled through his nose slowly, and the sounds of a little whistle blew filled her ears. Anastasia cleared her throat, “Care to clarify?”

 

“I’m a wealthy man, Miss Steele, and indulge myself in physical pursuits,” He answered, shifting in his seat, “I have expensive and absorbing hobbies—sailing, flying, and even dining.”

 

“What about your siblings? Do you have any?” She continued with probing questions.

 

“I have an older brother and a little sister,” Christian answered simply.

 

“And?”

 

Narrowing his eyes, tired of answering questions, he went onto the specifications as she had hoped for, “My brother is in construction. My sister is at a cooking school in Paris.”

 

Anastasia opened her mouth, gasping and spreading a smile across her face, “I hear it’s lovely there.” Dreamily, she fantasized herself in those travels.

 

Commenting truthfully, he replied, “It’s beautiful. Have you been?”

 

“I’ve never been out of country before,” The brunette said, shaking her head.

 

“Would you like to go?” He asked with a gentle smile.

 

“To Paris? Of course. But Switzerland has my heart,” Anastasia grinned.

 

“Really? Why?” Christian mused.

 

After his arrogantly boastful speech about his success, the doctor eventually delighted herself in the current conversation, “Klausman Institution for Medical Research in Zurich—the new director there is a cardio goddess, and I would love to meet her and have a chat with her some time about her medical journey, thoughts, and innovative discoveries. In fact, she was in the same residency program like I.”

 

“It isn’t just Zurich, though,” she shook her head, “There are so many places to see all over the world. Sooner or later, I hope to find the time for myself to go out and explore someday.”

 

With the sun already set, Anastasia turned around to see the lights of Seattle cascade over the darkness. She stood up, grabbing both their dinnerware and headed to the sink, turning on the faucet and soaping up the dishes and utensils.

 

“You don’t have to do that, Anastasia,” Christian responded, rushing over with a grimace.

 

The brunette smiled and shook her head, embracing the feeling of the warm water against her cool hands, “It’s no problem. Mrs. Jones cooked a fine meal, Mr. Grey, the least I can do is reward her from doing a simple chore.” Soaping each dish and utensil carefully clean, she began rinsing them. He admirably watched her on the side, leaning in closer and resting his hand on her shoulders. A static shock of tension and shivers were sent down her spine. Working more quickly to rid the suds off the dishes and cutlery, she dried them and casted them aside. The doctor wasn’t sure what she was doing, or what he was doing, but she felt an unfamiliar surge of emotions rush.

 

“Thank you for dinner, Mr. Grey, but I should get going now. It’s late,” Anastasia said.

 

He nodded, “Let me escort you home.”

 

“You’ve generously done enough, Mr. Grey; I can grab a cab.”

 

Briskly walking to the exit of his apartment, Christian followed her behind, trying to keep up and calling out, “There’s no need, let me. It’s dark out, and I can’t let you go out alone in good conscience.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Grey,” Her gratitude was the only reply she could speak against his fair reasoning.

 

Pushing the call button to the elevator, the doors opened, and they both entered the machine, heading back down to the garage from the thirty-first floor.

 

Anastasia sighed to herself, knowing well that she was silently secluded with the mysteriously attractive man in the empty space they filled. The doctor gazed up at Christian beside her, finding out he had been staring at her the whole time.

 

Christian smiled secretly to himself, and a shadow of mischievousness clouding his eyes. Daring herself not to look away, she smiled back up at him gently, gray eyes captivating her attention, examining every fine feature on his face. Discontinuing her ogling eyes, her head turned back to the numbers above the sliding doors, seeing each floor go down.

 

31…

 

30…

 

29…

 

The brunette bit down her smile, chewing on her lip. Erupting into a fire of emotions within Christian, he blurted out his desire in a low murmur, “I’d like to bite that lip.”

 

28…

 

27…

 

Time felt like it was slowing down, and all Anastasia could listen to was the simultaneous harmony of their quiet breathing. She released her lip from the holds of her teeth, boldly inviting him with her anesthetizing provocation, “Then, bite it.”

 

26…

 

“I can’t,” Christian shook his head, gutturally speaking through and trying to resist his actions. He told himself that he couldn’t but his body turned to Anastasia’s side, leaning his head against the side of the wall.

 

25…

 

The young resident leaned in, inviting his scent to fill her nose. She breathed him in gently, urging him, “Bite it.”

 

24…

 

23…

 

22…

 

21…

 

They both listened to each floor _ding_ as their destination was coming closer with each story dropping before them. Suddenly, he huffed, “Fuck the paperwork.”

 

20…

 

Christian cupped her face into his hands, pulling her face in and clamping his teeth gently against Anastasia’s bottom lip. Gasping in hitched shudders, she leaned her head back slowly, feeling the skin of her lip stretch slowly from his teeth.

 

19…

 

He sucked her lip into his mouth, greedily savoring her taste, “You. Are. So. Sweet.” He groaned breathily between each word through his teeth.

 

18…

 

Anastasia’s hands were at her sides, but before she could hold him, one hand grabbed both wrists and restrained her above her head, while the other caressed one side of her face. His body pressed onto hers as he leaned in to kiss her fully and deeply.

 

The sounds of the elevator were gone, and it was as if time had frozen—in their small space, in their bubble. He inhaled her scent as she gasped him into her mouth, expressing fervently passionate kisses into each other’s mouths. Her moans encouraged him to go on with his sexual pursuit, unable to stop his aggressive desire. Her lips and her body surrendered herself to him, letting him take away her breath and overwhelming her in every physical sense.

 

His tongue snaked past her lips, tasting her as her mouth openly submitted to his attack. As her desire for him expanded through her body, she latched her tongue onto his. He pulled his tongue out, kissing her again and again repeatedly and deeply.

 

1…

 

Momentarily, the doors to the elevator opened, dissolving their sexual desires and kisses. The heat of the space they shared escaped the sliding doors, cool air coming in to relieve the tension, but she couldn’t stop gazing at him, his eyes and his lips, breathlessly.

 

Without a second to spare, Christian released his restraints on Anastasia’s wrists, but held her hand as he led her to his black Audi. In silence, he opened the door to the passenger’s side and ushered her in before entering through his side, turning on the car and driving out of the garage in a rush.

 

Silence filled the space of the car, and the young doctor was still quietly panting to herself.

 

“Where?” Christian monosyllabically asked the location to her place, dwelling in his thoughts just as she was.

 

Ardently, she lied, “The hospital—I need to pick up something.”

 

Nodding, he stayed on his route, driving through the streets in the night. Contemplating and going through the recent events of their elevator ride, Christian said, “What happened in the elevator, it can’t happen again.”

 

“Why?” The brunette frowned, combing her hair with her fingers. She confessed quietly, “I liked what happened.”

 

He smiled and then smirked right after, “I did, too, but not until I have your written consent, Anastasia.”

 

“What does that mean? You have my consent,” The young doctor rolled her eyes away, leaning against the side of the car.

 

Pulling to the curbside of the entrance of the hospital, he answered back with ambiguity, “I’ll have to show you.”

 

Unbuckling her seatbelt, Anastasia responded, “Then, show me tomorrow. I have work until 6:45 p.m., but afterwards, I’m free.”

 

“So keen for information, like Eve with the forbidden fruit of knowledge,” He smiled to himself, rubbing her biting lip with the thumb of his finger. He then said, “I’ll pick you up, then. 6:45 p.m. Do you have a phone number or email I can use to contact you in the meantime?”

 

“Uh, yeah. One second…” The doctor pulled out her phone and exchanged contact information with the driver.

 

Getting out of the sports car, he called out to remind her, “6:45, Miss Steele.”

 

Anastasia nodded her head, repeating him  and bidding him good night, “6:45. Good night, Mr. Grey.”

 

“Good night, Ana,” He said. The smile on his face was the last thing she saw before closing his car door and watching him drive away.

**...**

_The next day … Friday, May 03, 2018_

_One more patient, and I can start getting ready for the mogul,_ Anastasia told herself as a reward of hard day’s work.

 

Heading over to the next patient in The Pit, she smiled professionally after viewing her file on the clipboard, “Mrs. Crowley, my name is Dr. Steele. It says here that you’ve been consistently vomiting all day and that you’ve been struggling with vertigo throughout the week. Can you tell me what happened and what you did today?”

 

Christian Grey had been on the doctor’s mind all day—inadvertently and purposefully. She couldn’t stop thinking about him and his kiss, so she decided to learn more about the successful businessman, and she was impressed through her research of him and his company.

 

Grey Holdings Enterprises Incorporated prided itself on “transforming what is possible” as their website quoted, being the global leader "in communications technologies, eco-manufacturing, and next generation farming solutions." It seemed as though the entrepreneur and the doctor had similar, common interests in their careers and future, and it was all about bettering lives and futures of people and the world’s tomorrow. Mr. Grey was a bigger deal than what Dr. Steele initially judged, starting his business at twenty-one from nothing and now becoming an established, well-respected company six years later.

 

The twenty-seven-year-old business man does a lot of investing as well, not just in businesses and revamping run-down companies but also into fundraisers, charities, and schools. Although he didn’t seem like the type at first, he’s invested his funds philanthropically into farming technologies to end world hunger. He was also well-acknowledged and respected at Washington State University, being a benefactor that funds the environmental sciences department through the school’s soil fertility and arable technology. With the school’s help, Christian was trying to help pioneer and engineer technologies that used low-input systems. With his telecommunications, his goal was to get the message out as he progressed with progresses in all types of green technology to better the world.

 

Reading WSU’s newspaper article, Anastasia read an interesting quote he used as a “guiding principle” in his life that simultaneously made her roll her eyes and smile disapprovingly: “A man who acquires the ability to take full possession of his own mind may take possession of anything else to which he is justly entitled,” quoted from Andrew Carnegie. Unsure of the coincidence, Carnegie was known as the “father of philanthropy,” and yet he wasn’t a good man growing up; she wondered if the parallelism were intentional, but the doctor let it go.

 

Diagnosing her patient with hyperemesis gravidarum (morning sickness) after receiving the patient’s blood tests, also revealing the news that the female patient was pregnant, Anastasia hurried off to the resident’s lounge to get undressed. She pulled the light-blue scrubs off her body and tossed them in the waste basket, slipping on a sheer black blouse to match with her black lace undergarments. Pulling a pair of black jeans over her legs and heeled boots on top, the doctor fixed her hair in the mirror to tame any frizz before rushed out the door with lip balm swiped across her lips. She frowned at her depressing outfit and day-old jeans, but her attire will have to do until she found the time to shop—something she dreaded.

 

Anastasia rushed past Dr. Deluca, causing him to whistle and call out, “What are you getting yourself into, Dr. Steele?”

 

“Trouble,” the doctor joked, waving good-bye. “Good night, Andrew.”

 

She was a minute late as she left the grand entrance of the hospital; spotting Mr. Grey leaned against his car.

 

The man was dashing as always—dark blue shirt with a black leather jacket to match, khaki-colored dress pants, and a head of annoyingly hair-pulling-provocative, tousled hair. Christian walked over to the young resident with a smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek, “Hello, Miss Steele, you look lovely. Shall to go?” As he asked, the wind blew gently from behind, toying her nostrils with an invitation to wrap her body around his musky-scented aromas of expensive colognes and body wash.

 

“Yes, please. Thank you for picking me up,” Anastasia flushed from his compliment and against the winds of Seattle’s blowing air. Carefully, she stepped into the car before buckling in.

 

The car ride began as Christian stepped in his car, “It’s my pleasure. Do you have a car? I know you said you just moved, but how do you get around?”

 

“Me and cars don’t go well together with my track history with them,” She giggled jokingly, but the driver beside her found no humor, setting a grim line across his face. Jokes aside, she answered honestly to fix the situation, “I don’t have a car. That’s why I asked you to drop me off at the hospital because my place was in walking distance. If I do want to go somewhere, I just take a walk; and it’s a great way for me to get to know the ins and outs of the new city.”

 

Christian scowled at the idea of the young girl alone in the streets, “That’s not a good reason or an excuse, regardless of how optimistic it sounds. It’s not safe.”

 

“It’s not like I own a company,” Anastasia shrugged, glimpsing at the street lights flashing past her eyes.

 

He smirked at the comment and asked seconds later, “Music?”

 

“Sure.”

 

The sounds of classical music filled her ears again, reminding her of the piano in his apartment. The doctor brightened at the thought and stated, “There is a piano in your apartment.”

 

“You have a good set of working eyes, Miss Steele,” He spoke sardonically with a cheeky smile.

 

She rolled her eyes and asked, “How long have you been playing?” _That’s what I was getting at,_ she thought.

 

“Since I was six years old,” Christian answered.

 

Anastasia smiled, a disbelieving head shaking, “Is there anything you can’t do well?”

 

“Yes…a few things,” He hesitated. “Do you play any instruments?”

 

Anastasia shook her head, “No, I wish I did, but I was too preoccupied with school. I do know my way around the piano though, not well enough to play, unfortunately.”

 

Furrowing his brows, he asked for clarification.

 

“When I was put into the foster care system, I met someone who knew how to play piano. Penn knew how to play a lot of instruments, actually, but he would always take the time to teach me a note or two as we played together,” the doctor explained, thinking about her childhood friend—Penn Hadley.

 

The realization of Mr. Hadley teaching her to how play upset and disturbed him. Shifting in his seat, he sat in silence, driving back to Escala for the second consecutive day in a row with her.

 

Things were starting to look familiar to Anastasia as she passed by certain streets and roads Christian took, knowing that she was almost at his place.

 

 _Let’s talk about him,_ her thoughts suggested.

 

“I read about you, today, Mr. Grey,” The doctor commented, “You are as intimidating as the articles and newspapers make you out to be through your interviews about your accomplishments and progress in technology.”

 

“Good, you should find me intimidating,” He responded, and she blushed, wondering why she was.

 

Anastasia went on with her personal interview, “There’s one thing that I can’t put my finger on; I read that you invest into manufacturing. Is there a reason why?”

 

He sighed and shrugged, “I like to build things. I like to know how things work: what makes things tick, how to construct and deconstruct. And I told you, I like to sail, so you can assume my love for ships, as well. What can I say?”

 

“Hmm. For once, that sounds like your heart talking, rather than logic and facts,” The doctor’s voice mused.

 

His mouth quirked from the comment, and he answered her, “Possibly. It’s a nice thought to think about, though there are people who’d say I don’t have a heart.”

 

 _Now, is this figuratively with your “heart talking” or logic and facts because literally speaking that isn’t possible?_ Anastasia smirked at the irony of her career pursuing cardiothoracic surgery.

 

She pried, “Why would they say that?”

 

“Because they know me well,” He smiled quietly at his own double entendre.

 

Parking back in its originally spot, Christian and Anastasia exited the car together as he searched and grabbed for her hand, leading her back into the elevator after it was called.

 

The doctor’s heart accelerated and she thought about performing the Valsalva maneuver on herself to slow down her nervous beating organ. She tried concentrating on her breathing, breathing in her nose and out her mouth slowly. Suddenly, a squeezing pressure on her hand snapped her out of her trance, turning to the man beside her.

 

“Nervous?”

 

Unintentionally, Anastasia nodded her head rapidly, biting her lip. She felt his hot breath press against the side of her head and then his pressed lips, speaking in a murmur, “Me too.”

 

The doctor stared at him in awe for a second and then stared back at the closed doors in front of her, waiting for them to open.

 

Christian frowned, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You know that right?”

 

Answering quite simply, she responded, “I’d never do anything I wouldn’t want to do, Christian.” Smart enough for her own good, she pondered the idea if what he had said was a warning that foreshadowed a formidable decision.

 

As the sliding doors opened the floor to his apartment, he kissed her head, “Good.”

 

The gray-eyed man pulled the brunette into his home, and she admired the vastness of his ample-spaced penthouse, once again. She walked towards the view of Seattle through his big glass window. She smiled, commenting to herself, “I don’t think I can get used to the view, Christian.” The lights scattered across the city, and the moon was just rising with stars spread across the night sky. Her body turned to his direction, and she stared at him with a genuine smile, “It’s so beautiful.”

 

Christian stared back at her, beguiled by her beauty. Her golden-warm eyes melted and thawed his cold heart, disarming him as eyes of pure innocence and elegance locked eyes with him. Her dark hair radiated a glow from the moonlight behind her, highlighting the warmth in her dark locks. Her milky skin was luminescent against the brilliance of the moon, supple and silky enough that one would know how it feels upon sight.

 

“Yes,” his voice croaked huskily, “it is.”

 

Anastasia’s head tilted to one side, smiling through a confused face. Drooling over her beauty, he shook his head out of his stupor and asked, “I’m going to have a glass of wine. Would you like to join me?”

 

“Okay,” she nodded her head, heading over to the kitchen.

 

His hand grabbed for a Sauvignon Blanc, asking her, “Pouilly-Fumé?”

 

 “I know nothing of wine,” Anastasia shrugged, “but I trust you.” She smiled at him and her own ignorance.

 

Her sentence sparked a warm feeling in Christian, wanting the doctor to keep her word in trusting him. He poured white wine into each glass and handed it to her, hoping to relieve the nerve-wrecking tension. He couldn’t understand why he was nervous, considering he’s done what he’s offered before.

 

“Mr. Grey, can you tell me why I’m here?” Anastasia blushed to her question. “I’ve been trying to figure it out, but I don’t think I have an answer.”

 

Christian handed her the glass with a darkening eye, “I think you know why you’re here.”

 

His lips pursed against the rim of the glass, taking a careful sip before setting his glass down. He confessed, “I want you.” With an impassive gaze, he warily stated, “But what I am about to propose I suspect would be very far from your expectations.”

 

Her heart fluttered in her chest. Biting her lip she answered, “Enlighten me, Christian.”

 

“Anastasia, please, stop biting your lip,” He said with a strained voice, reaching over and pulling at her lip with his thumb, “It’s very distracting.”

 

The doctor watched the man briskly leave for a moment. She took a seat by his couch, making herself comfortable with a glass in her hand as she waited for his arrival. Coming back minutes later with a file of papers in hand, he placed the stapled papers and a pen in front of her.

 

 _A nondisclosure agreement_? Her eyes scanned the title in disbelief.

 

“This is a nondisclosure agreement. My lawyer—” Christian spoke and then stopped, interrupted by Anastasia’s actions as she picked up the pen and began signing her name. Irritable by her impulsive actions, he scolded, “You’re not going to even read it?”

 

“Who am I going to tell?” Anastasia sighed, wondering if this was what Christian did with all the women he encountered. Was he ashamed of someone like her? Was that what she was supposed to not expect this? She explained, defending her impulsive decision, “I don’t know anyone here in Seattle close enough to share anything about my personal life, nor yours if you care about it this much to make it verbatim and binding in this agreement. Unless what we talk about or do is illegal, I think I’ll be fine.”

 

Christian narrowed his eyes, “Fair point well made, Miss Steele.”

 

“So,” The doctor slowly approached her words cautiously, hesitating as she brazenly went on, setting down her glass of wine on the coffee table, “is this where you…make love to me now?”

 

Christian smirked, “We’re ever so eager, Miss Steele.” He stopped in his place as he leaned in closely, “No, Anastasia, it does not. First, I don’t make love. I fuck, hard.” She inhaled a low gasp as he corrected her. Mindful to not bite her lip, she bit the pad of her thumb as he went on, “Secondly, there is a lot more paperwork to go through and sign. And third of all, you have no idea what you’re in for.”

 

His eyes darkened, but he lent out his hand, “You wanted me to enlighten you. Let me show you.”

 

Placing her hands on top of his, Anastasia held it gently. Following him up the stairs and towards a corridor, she found herself at the end of her walk with a door in front.

 

 _Where are we going?_ She pondered as her eyes searched the area of the hallway

 

Christian let go of her hand, hesitating as he adamantly reminded the brunette beside him, “You can leave anytime. I can bring you home if you don’t want to do this with me, or you can stay the night, and I can have someone bring you home tomorrow morning—the choice is yours.”

 

“How can I make a decision when I don’t know what’s in stored for me, Christian?” Anastasia huffed. This was sort of getting slightly offensive, but her attitude deep down was concerned. “Don’t be so cryptic. Open the door.”

 

With her wish in his command, the threshold to the room opened. Red—there was red everywhere, contrasting with the outside of his apartment. Her senses were darkly filled with a sense of adrenaline, like a body in fight-or-flight, but she didn’t feel threatened. Yet. The smells of the room penetrated her nostrils of the leather and wood in the room, a faint scent of citrus lingering in the air. A color of deep burgundy crowded over her vision and the space around her as if she was inside a beating heart, but it wasn’t the color of the room or the sheets on the bed that stole the attention from her eyes. Curiously walking in with a brisk, she spotted random objects in her sights, peering in close to examine each one.

 

It felt like a dungeon, and her experience of the room somehow triggered repressed memories of her past in her head. Across the room on the wall were different objects of restraints—ropes, chains, and hanging shackles. The bed even had shackles and cuffs attached. Nearby the door was a dresser that resembled Pandora’s Box to Anastasia, but she wasn’t sure if there was “hope” at the bottom of his dresser. But out of everything in the room, her eyes stared straight at his tools—whips, floggers, canes, paddles, and crops. She didn’t understand their uses or what they were, but her conscience was telling her it wasn’t pleasure—it was pain.

 

Anastasia walked toward the set of tools, her fingers running through the feathers of a flogger.

 

“It’s called a flogger,” Christian said in almost a whisper. For a moment, she forgot he was in the room.

 

 _Where am I?_ The young resident felt out of place and out of her league. Illustrating a scenario in her head, she pictured herself in his restraints as he lashed his tools and fury at her and then the roles reversed. Overwhelmed, her body paralyzed and numbed to the idea. Was he a masochist or a sadist? Why did he enjoy it? How long has he enjoyed it? How was he introduced to this dark world? Who has he done this with or who has he done this to? Who has done this to him? Swimming chaotically in her questioning deliberation, her hands traveled against the post of the king-sized bed.

 

Powerless to the deafening silence, he urged in a deceptively quiet tone of voice, “Say something.”

 

“Do people do this to you or do you do this to people?” Anastasia asked. She needed to get that straightened out first.

 

He blinked at her, contemplating in his thoughts as he tried finding his version of a correct answer, “I do this to women who want me to.”

 

 _There are women who want this?_ “If women want this—with your desires, why am I here?”

 

“Because I would like to do this with you, very much.”

 

 _With me? Or to me?_ Anastasia felt distressed and conflicted. It was a strange mess of emotions—desire and confusion and possibly even fear. Christian has reassured her that he wanted her consent multiple times, so everything began making sense to her. Was this the only way he wanted to touch her, through his methods?

 

“You’re a sadist,” The doctor determined without question.

 

His eyes blazed in intensity, objecting, “No, I’m a Dominant.”

 

She chewed at her lip, challenging him, “What’s the difference?”

 

“It means I want you to willingly surrender yourself to me, in every way.”

 

 _Like a slave?_ Her logic objected in question. _Like the ultimate lover?_ Her desires corrected.

 

“Why?” The doctor asked, but that question was simplified from her many other questions.

 

He whispered, “To please me. I want you to want to please me.”

 

 _Please him,_ her desires commanded as her logic screamed from her chains. _This is what you’ve been after. Why are you here, Steele? Why are you here? You wanted to be here, otherwise you would have left. You want to taste him. You want his lips. You want him._

“What do I do?” Anastasia asked breathlessly with fluttering eyes.

 

Christian gasped, confused but seduced by her misdirected question, “You do what I say with rules I want you in compliance—for your benefit and my pleasure.” He swallowed, and she watched his apple bob gently, “If you follow my rules to my satisfaction, I reward you. If you do otherwise, I punish you, and you will learn.”

 

“This is my playroom,” he explained, gesturing to the room around, “and as a submissive, you let me delve into your body however I want, whenever I want, and whatever I want.”

 

“My body and soul,” Anastasia added. _Playroom? More like the devil’s chambers—an incubus, perhaps,_ both logic and desire simultaneously thought in her head.

 

He nodded slowly, unsure if he should enjoy the statement, “If you must, but your consent most of all.”

 

The young resident took another look around the room, “And what do I get out of all of this?”

 

“Me,” he simply stated, causing her gaze to turn to his gray eyes, “all of me and the pleasure that comes with it—anything that you want from me and more, anything that I will allow to give you.”

 

 _I want you._ The brunette flushed in thought, confused on how she wanted him. Silence filled the void of the red room, and he felt uncomfortable as she felt overwhelmed.

 

“It’s distracting having you in here, Anastasia,” Christian muttered, lending out his hand again. “Let me show you where you will be sleeping,” he responded.

 

Anastasia stared into his gray eyes, feeling them beckon her to come to him. There was kindness and care in his dark gaze, which was something she couldn’t understand, wondering how all the paraphernalia and roles of being in a BDSM relationship can relate. His need to control and possess things made sense to her now. Everything he said, and the way he said them was brightening a light in her brain.

 

The doctor’s awareness of her conversation dissipated from the mess of thoughts in her mind. Christian hesitated, shifting in his stance, “I won’t hurt you, Anastasia.”

 

She blinked in confusion and looked at his hand before taking it in hers. He pulled her out of the playroom and led her across a room. Opening the door to a blank white room with a matching white bed and large vanity, the brunette made a face, “I’m moving in here now?”

 

Rethinking his decision of showing her the room from her response, he answered in explanation, “Just Friday through Sunday, while you are with me.”

 

 _This won’t do. What if I’m working on the weekends? Hold on, am I really thinking about this?_ “Where do you sleep? I won’t be sleeping with you?” Anastasia asked, opposed to the sleeping arrangements and the room for the wrong reasons.

 

“My room is downstairs,” Christian responded, “I don’t sleep with anyone.”

 

The luxuries of his place were not convincing her to be a part of his ordeal. This blank room felt cold and isolated, like a prison. The apartment she owned felt homier than the room she was currently in. Distressed, she rubbed her arm, looking around the room with unappreciative disgust. It felt degrading, and she felt like a pet—a pet that was getting signed for adoption; however, a pet gets cared for and loved. Was this his version of that? She pondered the thought, _Is that what this is? A means of ownership?_ This was far from what she wanted. What this the right decision for her?

 

“Christian, this relationship…ordeal, I just feel…” Anastasia’s face was troubled, and he felt regretful for bringing her along this path, but at the same time, he wanted to show her how much they can do and be together. “Objectified,” she declared.

 

Christian’s eyes widened in disbelief, “No, I—”

 

“Is that how you want to see me? Do you only want me when I am that way?” She frowned as she started comprehending her own beliefs of the ordeal.

 

“No, Anastasia!” His blazed furiously at her and nose flared as he yelled. Flinching from his response, she turned her face away from him, causing him to release a sigh, “I want you. Believe me. I just—I told you; I don’t do the relationship thing. This is all I know. I don’t want you to feel objectified because this isn’t about that.”

 

He held onto both of her hands, squeezing them while urgently speaking for her conviction, “I know I’ve given you a lot take in, Ana, but I want this for you. For me. For us. I wouldn’t think of objectifying you, far from it. I’d worship you, God knows, what I want to do to you—with you—so much.” The man beseeching the doctor for her approval was all he wanted at the moment; he didn’t want to be responsible for that look on her face, “Please, believe me.”

 

“I believe you,” Anastasia answered back, stunned from his confession. His confession was the most he has said to her in one breath and moment. The strange fact throughout all of what she had just witnessed was that she still wanted him, through and through everything she experienced she still wanted to somehow be a part of She shook her head, squeezing his arm, “I’m sorry for the overreaction. This was just a lot to think about. I don’t understand this or much about anything unless you give me a cadaver.”

 

Christian made a face at her joke, as he thought about a the doctor and a dead body, “What?”

 

“No, sorry, not like that, I meant I know more about—forget about it,” The doctor sighed, chuckling weakly, “Bad joke.”

 

“Have you eaten today?” He asked, changing the subject. Nodding “no,” his mouth turned into a hard line before he decided, “Let’s go downstairs.”

 

There was a lot to contemplate, but Anastasia was not sure where to begin. She was lost, and her night had such a turn of events much to her surprise—she believed his was the same.

 

“Cheese and grapes, okay?” Christian asked, as the young resident went for her glass of wine at the coffee table after descending the dominant’s stairs.

 

Strolling back to his kitchen and seating herself on his chair, she leaned on her knuckles with a propped elbow as her other palm cupped the bowl of her glass, spinning the wine in circles. She sighed, “I’m not hungry.”

 

“Eat,” he ignored her comments, pushing a board of cheese and grapes toward her.

 

“Even if I was hungry earlier, I have lost my appetite, Mr. Grey,” She frowned in her truthful answer, shaking her head.

 

“Eat, Anastasia,” Christian ordered again, eating some cheese and sipping his wine.

 

After the brunette’s stubborn reluctance passed, she picked up two grapes and ate them silently one at a time, taking sips of her wine after finishing each grape. He watched her, filling the void of silence with his caring reassurance, “I understand that this is a dark path I’m taking you on, which is why I want you to really think about this. You signed the NDA, so you can ask me anything.”

 

 _Right, questions—Oh, Mr. Grey, what can I ask?_ She mused. Staring blankly at his gray eyes, trying not to fall into the gray-eyed hypnotization, she asked, “What happens if I don’t want to do this and not sign the other following paperwork?”

 

“Isn’t it obvious? We won’t pursue our relationship,” He said.

 

“Any type of relationship?” Anastasia asked with saddening disbelief.

 

“No, this is the only relationship I am interested in.”

 

“Why?”

 

He said carefully, covering up his ominous tone, “Because it’s the way that I am.”

 

 _No, it is not._ Anastasia’s thoughts refused to believe it, but she still respected his interests (to say the least).

 

Learning more about him through rapid-fire questions the doctor learned that Christian’s been the way he was for a while, enjoying his particular interests since the birth of his sexually active timespan. The dominant has been in a BDSM relationship with fifteen other women; while some lasted longer than others, all his relationships ended due to incompatibility. He’s hurt women in the past before in these types of relationships, but she didn’t expect any less or differently for herself, taking in mind what goes on between a dominant and a submissive. It meant that it was bound that he would hurt her, regardless if it was a “punishment.” The one thing that made the young resident ponder was him revealing that he had been beaten before, in wondering what context.

 

Christian offered to talk more in his study, wanting to show the already overwhelmed girl something else.

 

Furrowing her brows to the paper she was handed, the young doctor frowned wondering if what she was given to her seriously, “What is this?”  


“Read it, and we’ll discuss. Although subject to change, they are the rules for when you are with me,” He answered.

 

Essentially, Anastasia had no control of her own life. What she ate, what she wore, when she slept, her well-being, her physical appearance, how she _acted_ —all of the rules listed were in the possession and manipulated by the dominant, and she had no control unless she asked for punishments, which he would still enjoy. It was not a win-win, or a win-lose; it was simply _lose-lose-lose._ These rules felt offensive.

 

“Money for clothes? This is wrong,” Anastasia opposed. With a sex contract like this, this is borderline prostitution, which she can use to break the NDA if needed be; however, she would be at fault as well.

 

“I want to lavish money on you,” Christian replied, making her want to vomit repulsively, “Let me buy you clothes. I may need you to accompany me to functions, and I want you dressed well.” _So, now my contract doubles up as an escort? This was not in the job description_. She thought to herself as he spoke—as if this was the part of the contract that was most concerning to her.

 

Gaping at the rules, she opened her mouth, looking up at him, “It says you will provide me with a trainer, have a list of food for me to eat, and enforce me to have a minimum of seven hours of sleep. That, to me, is all utterly unrealistic.”

 

Christian shook his head in disagreement, cocking his head to the side as he made a face of confusion, “I need to make sure you stay fit and healthy around me, what you will endure with me is quite energy-consuming and I want you to keep up with me.”

 

“I thought this was something we were supposed to discuss and negotiate, not decide?” Anastasia asked with a lifting brow.

 

“Yet another fair point well made, Miss Steele,” He smirked.

 

Anastasia nodded her head, “If I may add, I can’t concur with these agreements. My life is already energy-consuming and stressful enough for me to dwell on these little things.”

 

His gray eyes blazed as he admonished her, “Your well-being is not a ‘little thing’ to neglect, Anastasia, but what did you have in mind?”

 

“For starters, requiring me to sleep is nonnegotiable; my job is physically demanding and laborious—I am aware the irony of the situation, however, I can’t always maintain at least seven hours of sleep every day,” The doctor shook her head, secure in her decision.

 

Moving on to her next rule, avoiding her biggest issue, she continued, “The food—this rule is a bit objectionable. I won’t eat from a list you ‘prescribe.’ I’m an adult, and I should be able to eat what I want with the trust that you would respectfully and kindly give me to take care of myself. I am a doctor after all, and I know what I can handle.”

 

“But at the same time you don’t,” Christian counter-argued her objection, “I’ve done this longer and more times than you. I do understand what you need, Anastasia, and needs you may not even realize.” His eyes darkened, staring down at her.

 

Anastasia swallowed, doing her best to disregard his last comment to maintain focus, “In spite of everything and my lack of knowledge in your world, the thing I do understand is the human anatomy and what follows, as well as my body— _my_ body, Mr. Grey. I understand my role and submitting to you, nonetheless I will be honest with my needs, but you need to trust me that I can take care of myself.”

 

He sighed in resignation, aware that he wasn’t going to win the conversation, “Very well, Miss Steele, as you wish.”

 

“Omit exercise, I just can’t—my schedule,” Anastasia said, repeating her reason. _Unless I do them in the early morning…_ she thought to herself. Back at Stanford, she ran every couple of days. It started as a way to improve cardiovascular health and advocate exercising as she spread awareness, but then it became a routine habit in her life—that was until she moved.

 

“I need you strong, fit, and healthy as I’ve said before. The things we will be doing together require a lot of energy and stamina, and I need to be sure that you can keep up with me,” Christian said.

 

“I’ll see what I can do, but not four times a week. You have no idea how much I can get done in an hour,” Anastasia stubbornly agreed. Her workouts usually ran longer than an hour anyhow, but she never ran four times a week; if she did, she’d be stick and bones.

 

Hoping to make him happy, she compromised, “Twice a week for an hour.”

 

“Four times a week—three one-hour sessions, and one half hour session,” Christian retaliated.

 

“Three times a week—one-hour sessions. With my time here, I’m sure you’d keep me on my feet.”

 

“Okay, agreed,” He smiled wickedly with a dark gleam in his eyes, “You make a good negotiator. Are you sure you don’t want to work for me?”

 

The doctor raised her hand to decline his suggestion, “Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves or push our luck, Mr. Grey. I think it’s best if I stay within the path of what I am best at.”

 

Moving on to the next topic, Christian handed her another sheet of paper, “Moving on. These are my limits.”

 

Uncomfortable that she was reading this on paper, her gut and conscience was subdued to his limitations—essentially it was no violence or uses of the excretory system, no use of surgical equipment, no engagements with children or animals— _Good God and thank God—_ , no acts that prevent the use of her respiratory system, and no scars left behind.

 

Going along and concurring with his limits, Anastasia stared at him rubbing her lips together, nodding. _Okay? That’s nice?_

Narrowing his eyes, he dominant asked, “Well, is there anything you’d like to add?”

 

Anastasia stared down at the paper, scratching the side of her head and hoping that inspiration would hit, but nothing came to mind. She wasn’t sure what to add or what she liked.

 

 “Anastasia, is there anything you don’t like?”

 

“I’m not sure. I’ve never done anything like this before,” She shrugged, looking back at the paper to avoid his gaze and hide her embarrassment.

 

“What don’t you know? When you have sex, was there something you didn’t enjoy?” He asked with gray eyes making a stern face of comprehension, trying to apprehend her situation and expression.

 

 _You don’t get it. Do I have to spell it out?_ Anastasia stared back up at him with widening eyes, feeling all the blood rush to her head. He continued pressing her for her answer, “We need to be honest with each other if we want this relationship to work, Anastasia. I won’t judge you.”

 

Sighing, her golden eyes gazed back into contact with his gray eyes. She revealed, shaking her head to emphasize her thoughts, “Christian, I’ve never…” A flood of shame of self-consciousness had overcome her emotions, beginning her sentence again, “I’ve never done anything _that_ intimate before. I’ve never been intimate with anyone.” She made a face that expressed her thoughts, _Do you understand now?”_

“ _Never_?” He gasped, and a void of dread and shame filled the pit of the brunette’s stomach.

Christian’s gray eyes bulged, breathing out his whispering exhale, “You’re a virgin?” He closed his eyes, bringing his hand to his head as he rubbed his lids before pinching and massaging the bridge of his nose.

 

His nose flared before his gray eyes showed blazing fury momentarily, “Why the _fuck_ didn’t you tell me?”

 

A minute after, Anastasia watched him pacing his study back and forth in exasperating anger, hands running into the mess of his hair. He shook his head in a menacingly manner, his rage causing him to think before he was able to articulate his thoughts, “I’ve just shown you…I knew you were inexperienced but not once did you indicate or showed that you were a…What I don’t understand is why you didn’t seem to want to bring this up until I asked.”

 

Christian’s voice increased in sound, and her ears rang from the volume of his voice as it bounced and echoed off the walls of his study. She felt her shoulders sink down, and she stared up at him with quietly pained anger, “It’s because you never asked, and like you I’m a fairly private person. I don’t go around sharing that kind of information to anyone. It’s not anyone’s business.” She shrugged, hoping the angered man would understand, “Like I’ve said before, you know as well as I do how looks can be deceiving.”

 

“You want to discuss what I want to do when you have no experience,” He gave her a look of puzzled disbelief. “Apart from me, have you ever been kissed before?”

 

Crossing her arms into her chest, the doctor looked away from his, “ _Yes._ Of course, I have.” _Just once…from Penn before I left New York…seven years ago._ Anastasia thought, feeling as though she didn’t need to disclose that information to him.

 

Trying to understand her reasoning of celibacy or abstinence, Christian knitted his brows together, “Was this a choice? Have you avoided sex purposefully? You’re a young and beautiful girl in her twenties, and you’re telling me a man has not swept you off your feet? Explain this to me, please.”

 

Caught off guard by his inquiries and flattery, she didn’t know how to explain. The doctor sighed, “I’ve never been in a situation where one has taken interest, or one that would take interest as mutually as I did. There are not many that have grabbed my attention.”

 

Christian’s face softened to her answer, but the doctor asked, “Why are you angry with me?”

 

“I’m not angry at you. I’m angry at myself. Based on what we’ve spoken about and how you’ve acted since my time with you I just assumed…” He sighed, sitting beside her. He turned his face to her and asked gently, “Do you want to go?”

 

Anastasia sighed through her nose, “ _Should_ I go?”

 

“Not unless you want to, but I like having you here,” He answered with a smile before pulling at her bottom lip from the tug of her teeth, “You’re biting your lip.”

 

“Oh, sorry,” She licked her lips.

 

“Don’t apologize. It’s just want I want bite it, too,” Christian breathed, as he stared at his lip.

 

“Come with me,” he declared after a moment of revelation, gently taking his hand into his and stood up.

 

Anastasia stood with him, walking out of his study. She asked as they exited his study, “Where are we going?”

 

“We’re going to rectify your situation right now,” The dominant stated, “I’m going to make love to you. Of course, that’s if you want to; I don’t want to push my luck with you still being here.”

 

Her mouth gaped open, stuttering, “I-I thought you didn’t make love.” _Is this really happening? What do I do in this situation right now?_

 

Christian’s smile spread in a wickedly dark way, “I can make an exception, or even combine the two.” He stopped in the middle of his apartment, turning around to face the doctor, a hand holding her hand while his other hand cupped the side of her face, “I really want to make love with you. I want our arrangement to work, but I need you to understand what you are getting yourself into before you make the decision to become mine.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and she gazed into his heated gray eyes, “Think of it as a fun way of learning, you told me how much you’d been in school for so long—we can start with the basics. So, what do you say? Please, come to bed with me.” He was seductive in his husky voice, hypnotic and pulling the pure girl into the snares of his alluring hold.

 

It was tempting, but her logic and wits restrained her from making an impulsive decision based on her desires. She bit her lip, “I haven’t consented to the way you wanted me to. The rules—we aren’t finished discussing—”

 

Christian smiled gently, shaking his head and cupping her face with his hands, while her delicate hands held onto his wrists. Pressing his forehead against hers, he continued, “Forget all the rules, the details of tonight. I want you. I’ve wanted you since you pulled me out of my car. And I know you want me, otherwise you would have left already.” His hand caressed her head, watching the shine of her hair reflect against the light of the moon from the corner of his eye. He urged again, “Please, spend the night with me.”

 

Anastasia, hypnotized by his stare and seduced by his words, fell into his arms as he wrapped his arms around her body. She could feel the strength and the grip of his muscles constrict against his hold. His hand snaked up her back and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling it down to stare in into his eyes. Lowering his head down onto her lips, he tugged and pulled at her bottom lip, humming a moan. Her body shuddered to his sexual tease, moaning to his kiss. She sucked in air sharply through her gritting teeth.

 

“You are one brave, young woman,” He whispered and moaned, letting go of her lip, “I am in awe of you.”

 

She wanted him, and she couldn’t contain herself any longer. She wanted to open herself to him and submit to his takeover—his pleasure.

 

Rubbing his nose against hers, he spoke once more gentle and seductive, “Please, Ana, let me make love to you.”

 

“Yes,” Anastasia whispered, before moaning into his capturing lips, “Please.”

 

Christian wrapped his arms around him, lifting her up and inviting her to wrap her legs around him. He kissed her with desperate fervor, hungry lust exhuming from the essence of his kisses. Her hands felt his face as he carried her, feeling her lips being pulled from his teeth again and replaced moments after with his hot kisses. He led her into his bedroom, laying her on the bed. Her body was sprawled out against the sheets, watching him shrug his jacket off. Her eyes flashed want and desire, bringing him back onto her lips as Christian lifted her chin, while his hand unbuttoned each button, beginning at the top.

 

“God…” Christian moaned, his face in a sexually entranced daze, “You are so beautiful, Ana.”

 

Anastasia, in hitched breaths, gasped between kisses, smiling between his kisses as she surrendered her body over to him.

* * *

 

_Present day … Tuesday, May 08, 2018_

 

“Ana?”

 

The doctor opened her eyes, using a spatula to carefully place each egg and bacon onto their dishes. She stared at him confused, “Huh?”

 

Christian’s hand held her cheek, knitting his brows together in concern, “I asked you how you were enjoying Seattle so far. Is everything all right?”

 

Anastasia made a half smile, putting the hot skillet back on the stove and picked up each breakfast plate, placing them on each placemat. She nodded her head, “Yeah, I was just thinking about the night of my first time with you.”

 

“Oh?” His gray eyes opened with curiosity, wondering what drove her thoughts back to last weekend.

 

Nodding her head, the brunette took her seat, “You asked me how I’ve been settling in Seattle—my mind thought of you. It’s hard to forget. You’re unforgettable.”

 

Pleased by her flattery and words, he smiled gently, “Do you want another reminder?” He grinned with a gleam of wicked thoughts in his gray eyes.

 

She leaned from her seat, bending over to kiss his lips and moaning in his lips. He let out a low growl as he kissed her back deeply, holding her face, “Hungry for more?”

 

“Let’s eat, Mr. Grey. We have a long day ahead of us,” Anastasia giggled, starting to pick at her food.

 

Christian sighed, shaking his head as he had just been toyed and teased with. Taking a bite out of his food, he stared back at her impressed and surprised, “You cook well.”

 

“It’s a wonder what you can do with food,” The young doctor smiled, taking small bites out of her food.

 

Narrowing his eyes, he commented, “Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”

 

“That’s a matter of opinion, which really is subjective,” She shrugged at him, taking a bite of her toast.

 

The half-naked man beside her shook his head, finishing his food within minutes before responding with a frown, “I have to fly out to the university tomorrow, and I won’t be back until Friday.”

 

Anastasia took a swig of orange juice from her glass that he had poured earlier for her, asking, “Washington State? What for?”

 

He nodded to her former question, sighing with a rolling sigh as he answered the next, “I was invited to their commencement to give a speech and hand out students’ degrees.” He tried convincing her of his invitation, “I want you to come with me.”

 

She grinned, “Do you now?”

 

“Yes,” He said with an impassive stare and serious tone, “but I don’t suppose you’ll go?”

 

“Even if I wanted to, I have work, Christian. You should know that by now,” Anastasia smiled, patting his hand, but before she could pull away, he grabbed at her hand and held it, warming her cold fingers with his heated hand.

 

“Why?”

 

“Why, what?” She asked, sipping her orange juice again with a furrowing brow.

 

“I can provide for you. You don’t have to work. I’m just wondering why you do,” He asked, not understanding her ethic. He had everything and anything she could want.

 

Anastasia made a face, setting down her glass, inadvertently setting the cup down louder than it should, “You have to ask, Christian?” She pushed her plate, leaning on her fist as she propped her elbow on the table, “I work because it is what I want to do and what I am meant to do. I want to help people, to heal and fix patients.” She stared down at her hands, after folding them together in front of her, “I didn’t ask for much growing up, and I didn’t want anything other than to pursue this—being a surgeon. It’s time consuming, and incredibly tiresome, but it’s so worth it in the end, the knowledge of fixing someone and knowing that you can.”

 

She sighed, smiling weakly as she stared up at his curious eyes. “When I am in the operating room,” she closed her eyes, picturing herself there and continuing, “I feel complete bliss. Everything just disappears around me, and it’s just me. The beauty and the privilege as well as the knowledge of fixing someone with my bare hands, listening to their heart beat as I suture and patch up every broken wound and injury; I know that what I am doing—in that moment—is what I am meant to do for the rest of my life, or until I can’t.” She giggled to herself opening her eyes, “I’ve never felt that way ever in my life before—at peace and utter content.”

 

“Until I met you.”

 

Christian opened his mouth, his mental state in shock and his full expression in awe, disarmed and enchanted by her passion and honesty.

 

Anastasia sighed again before smiling, preparing her next joke with a batting eye, “Maybe you’re just that amazing at sex.”

 

He laughed and grinned, “You have me at a loss for words, Miss Steele.” He shook his head, shocked at how the conversation could turn one way and then the next so quickly.

 

“It might good for us that you’re going,” the doctor nodded. “It’ll give me space and time to really consider this proposal of yours and what I want.”

 

Silence filled the kitchen, and he frowned at a loss of words. She held his hand, smiling weakly, reading and comprehending his expressively silent frustration.

 

He wanted to convince her and persuade her the way he knew how, but the doctor was already getting up and beginning to leave for a shower.

 

“I need to start getting ready for work, but I guess I won’t see you until Friday?” Anastasia stared at him, suddenly realizing from her thoughts that he wasn’t going to be around for the next few days. He wasn’t gone, and she felt embarrassed to think that she was going to miss him, despite the fact he had not left yet.

 

Christian nodded his head, pulling her back into his body and kissing her deeply, catching her off guard as he desperately poured his needs onto his lips, “I want this for us, Anastasia, badly.” He caressed her face, rubbing his nose against hers before pulling away to stare intently into her golden eyes, analyzing and memorizing the light brown flares in her irises. “Friday,” he repeated.

 

“Wait for me, Mr. Grey,” Anastasia murmured against his lips, wishing him farewell as she went for her shower. Little did she know, he wasn’t ready to leave without giving her a proper good bye the best way he knew how.


End file.
